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The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

The  Men  Who  Are  Building  the  Panama  Canal — 
Their  Daily  Lives,  Perils,  and  Adventures 


By 

Hugh  C.  Weir  ^ 


Fully  Illustrated 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New   York  and  London 
^bc  Iftnicfterbocfter  ipress 

1909 


'^ 


u-^^ 


Copyright,  1909 

BY 

HUGH  C.  WEIR 


Cbe  Itnfcftetbocfter  press,  'Rcw  lorft 


TO 
MY   WIFE 


PREFACE 

'T'HE  Panama  Canal  never  will  be  dug  by  ma- 
*  chinery  alone.  Beyond  the  steam  shovels 
and  the  dirt  trains,  beyond  the  air-drillers  and  the 
dredges,  the  imion  of  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific 
depends  upon  the  men  who  are  giving  health, 
wealth,  and  life  in  the  battle  with  the  tropical 
jungle.  It  is  of  these  men,  the  khaki  heroes  of 
the  wilderness,  of  whom  I  would  tell,  the  men 
who  have  rubbed  elbows  with  death  from  almost 
every  angle  and  in  almost  every  guise,  in  order 
that  the  American  nation  might  win  the  greatest 
industrial  victory  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

We  have  heard  much  of  the  industrial,  po- 
litical, mechanical,  and  financial  sides  of  the 
Panama  Canal.  In  fact  the  mass  of  material 
of  this  kind  we  have  digested  has  smothered  the 
human  aspect  of  the  great  waterway.  In  the 
discussion  of  locks  and  dams,  the  romance  of 
the  Isthmus  has  been  overlooked.  In  the  search 
for  graft  and  failure,  the  muck-raker  has  ignored 
the  deeds  of  daring  and  danger  which  dot  the 


vi  Preface 

canal  from  Colon  to  Panama.  We  have  been 
given  the  red-inked  reports  of  the  engineers,  and 
have  missed  the  red-blooded  stories  of  heroism 
behind  them.  It  is  these  that  I  would  present 
in  the  pages  which  follow. 

The  steam  shovels  at  Panama  are  tearing  three 
million  cubic  yards  of  dirt  from  mountain  and 
jungle  every  thirty  days.  This  is  a  big  record, 
the  biggest  in  the  engineering  history  of  the  world. 
But  it  was  not  to  study  the  steam  shovels  that  I 
visited  the  Isthmus.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  to 
give  my  attention  to  the  shirt-sleeved,  sun-tanned 
men  who  are  operating  the  steam  shovels. 

Uncle  Sam  is  maintaining  an  army  forty 
thousand  strong  in  the  heart  of  the  Panama 
jungle,  over  two  thousand  miles  from  the  base 
of  supplies.  In  some  respects  it  is  the  most 
unique  army  of  peace  or  war  that  has  ever  fiown 
the  American  flag.  What  is  the  daily  life  of  this 
army?  How  does  it  work?  How  does  it  play? 
How  and  where  does  it  spend  its  evenings  in  the 
tropical  wilderness?  Hundreds  of  the  men  have 
their  wives  and  children  with  them.  What  type 
of  frontier  civilization  do  they  find?  These  are 
some  of  the  questions  I  have  tried  to  answer,  and 
in  the  effort  I  have  left  the  mechanical  side  of 
the  Panama  Canal  for  the  engineer  and  the  muck- 


Preface  vii 

raker,  and  have  dealt  mainly  with  the  human 
side. 

Also,  as  the  history  of  the  Canal  is  not  confined 
to  the  present,  I  have  endeavored  to  gather 
something  of  the  romance  of  its  past  and  to  add 
to  the  daring  deeds  of  the  twentieth  century  the 
achievements  of  other  centuries  that  have  con- 
tributed their  part  to  the  progress  of  to-day  and 
the  victory  of  to-morrow. 

Portions  of  this  book  first  appeared  in  periodi- 
cals— Putnam's  Magazine,  The  Railroad  Man's 
Magazine,  and  The  American  Boy — and  thanks 
are  offered  to  these  publications  for  permission 
to  use  the  material  in  this  volume. 

H.  C.  W. 

New  York  City, 
May  I,  1909 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama           .  i 

II.     The    Men  op   the  "Dirt"    Trains — 

AND  Others       ....  21 

III.  The  Romance  op  Jungle  and  City     .  40 

IV.  How  the  "Dirt"  Flies  at  Panama   .  59 

V.     Colon  and  Beyond  ....  69 

VI.     Through  Culebra  Cut — on  a  Motor 

Car  .  .  . ^        .  .  .S3 

VII.     Scorpions,    Tarantulas,    and     the 

"T.  T.'s."           ....  93 

VIII.     A  Day  with  the  Panama  Alligators  102 

IX.     Shanton— Tamer  of  Panama    .          .  114 

X.     The  Disease  Battle  of  the  Isthmus  139 

XI.     Roosevelt  at  Panama      .  .  -151 

XII.     The  Women  of  Panama    .          .          .  167 

ix 


X  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XIII.  Lieutenant  Isaac  C.   Strain— Hero  179 

XIV.  The  Truth  about  the  Gatun  Dam    .  198 
XV.     Is  IT  ALL  Worth  While?             .          .  209 

Appendix          .....  219 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

Medal  to  be  Presented  to  Panama  Canal 
Employees    .         .  .  Frontispiece 

The    Young  Men's  Christian  Association 

Club-house  at  Culebra  ...         4 

Meal  Time  at  an  Isthmian  Canal  Commission 

Kitchen, — Lower  Rio  Grande        .  .       20 

The  Dining-room,  Tivoli  Hotel   .  .  .24 

Mess-hall  Kitchen  for  European  Laborers       34 

Work  Done  and  to  be  Done  on  the  Panama 

Canal   .......       38 

Diagram  Showing  Excavation  during  Each 
Month  at  Panama  by  Steam  Dredges 
AND  Shovels  since  American  Occupation      38 

Typical  Family  Quarters  for  Negro  Em- 
ployees ......       40 

A  Group  of  Gallego  Laborers,  Lirio     .         .       42 

Types  of  Martinique  Women  on  the  Isthmus      48 

The  Fort  at  St.  Lorenzo,  Panama        .         .       50 


xii  Illustrations 


FACING  PAGE 


The  Promenade  on  the  Sea-wall,  Old  Fort, 

Panama    ......   56 

Steam  Shovels  Loading,  Lidgerwood  Flats, 
East  Side  OF  Culebra  Cut,  just  South  of 
Gold  Hill     ......       76 

Excavation  for  Lock  Site,  Gatun,  January, 

1907       .......       78 

President  Roosevelt  on  Tour  of  Inspec- 
tion AT  Empire       .....        80 

President  Roosevelt  on  Tour  of  Inspection       84 

West  Side  of  Canal  at  Bas  Obispo,  Septem- 
ber 19,  1907,  BEFORE  Firing  9600  Pounds 
OF  Black  Powder  ....       86 

Same  View  as  Preceding  after  Blast  had 

Displaced  29,640  Cubic  Yards  of  Rock       88 


Culebra  Cut,  Looking  South,  Feb.,  1908 

The  Cut  at  Bas  Obispo,  Looking  South,  June 
1908       ...... 


90 


94 

98 

106 


Steam  Drills  at  Work  in  Bas  Obispo 

Canal  Zone  Prisoners 

The  Bakery  at  Cristobal    .  .  .  .110 

The  Interior  of  the  Bakery  at  Cristobal     112 

The  Commissary,  Cristobal  .  .  .116 

A  Hut  in  the  Panama  Jungle       .         .         .     120 


Illustrations  xiii 

FACING  PAGE 

The  Interior  of  the  Isthmian  Canal  Com- 
mission, CULEBRA  ....       124 

The  Offices  of  the  Division  Engineer  at 

Cristobal      ......      130 

Cathedral  Plaza,  Panama    ....     142 

The  Quarters  for  the  Married  at  Paraiso    .      154 

A  Panamanian ''Wash  Lady"        .  .  .     184 

The  Ruins  of  the  Panama  of  Four  Hundred 

Years  Ago     .  .  .  .  .  .198 

Maps     ......        at  end 


The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  KHAKI  HEROES  OF  PANAMA 

I N  the  darkness  of  the  Panama  night,  a  row  of 
■■■  ghost  lights  blinked  at  me,  as  I  lounged  on  the 
second-floor  veranda  of  the  Cristobal  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
building.  They  were  the  electric  bulbs  of  the 
half-circle  of  Government  quarters  at  my  left, 
blurred  and  shadowed  by  the  haze  of  the  mosquito 
netting  stretched  before  them. 

Over  in  the  distance  I  could  see  the  moon- 
silvered  Atlantic.  The  jangle  of  a  cab-driver's 
bell  sounded  sharply  at  my  elbow.  A  khaki-clad 
policeman  paused  in  a  stray  beam  of  light,  and 
fanned  himself  with  his  broad  Stetson  hat.  A 
Jamaican  negress,  bedecked  with  red  ribbons, 
flaunted  past  him.  It  was  my  first  night  in  the 
Canal  Zone,  and  I  was  curious. 

A  sudden  burst  of  shouts  behind  me  brought  me 


^         The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

around  abruptly,  again  conscious  of  the  sweltering 
November  heat  of  the  Isthmus. 

Through  a  long  open  window  of  the  gymnasium, 
I  could  see  the  climax  of  a  vigorously  waged  basket- 
ball game,  the  perspiring  contestants  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  humidity  which  had  wilted  two 
collars  for  me  during  the  day.  Dodging,  leaping, 
squirming,  the  lithe  figures  were  massed  now 
around  one  goal,  now  around  the  other, — ^the 
bouncing  leather  ball  a  thing  of  life  in  their  surg- 
ing midst.  I  was  watching  Uncle  Sam's  Canal- 
builders  at  play. 

A  few  hours  before,  the  darting  men  in  the 
''gym.  togs"  might  have  been  seen  among  the 
** steam  shovel"  or  ''dirt  train"  .gangs  of  the 
Isthmus,  in  the  Panama  Railroad  shops,  or  bent 
over  a  desk  in  any  of  the  score  of  Government 
offices  within  a  two-mile  radius.  These  are  the 
men — ^the  young  men — who  are  digging  the 
biggest  canal  in  the  world's  history,  against  odds 
which  the  American  nation,  of  the  three  that  have 
tried,  alone  has  conquered.  These  are  the  men 
whom  the  average  resident  of  "the  States" 
pictures  as  lying  on  the  red  Panama  mud,  half 
dead  with  malaria  or  yellow  fever,  dodging  snakes 
and  eating  decayed  rations! 

I  was  seeking  the  real  life  of  the  Canal,  not  that 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama        3 

darkened  by  the  sombre  hues  of  the  pessimist, 
nor  yet  that  brightened  by  the  rose  tints  of  the 
optimist,  but  the  every-day  conditions  of  work 
and  play  of  the  every-day  man — ^yes,  and  woman 
and  child — associated  with  the  digging  of  the 
''Big  Ditch. "     Was  this  a  typical  sample? 

A  youth,  seated  at  a  comer  piano,  was  drum- 
ming through  the  strains  of  a  late  Broadway  hit 
when  I  stepped  back  into  the  building.  The 
basket-ball  contestants  had  dispersed  to  the 
shower-baths.  Across  the  corridor,  a  long  row 
of  men  were  turning  the  files  of  recent  magazines. 
It  was  the  conventional  Y.  M.  C.  A.  scene  at  any 
of  the  compass  points  at  home.  And  this  was — 
the  Panama  jungle ! 

Downstairs  we  stopped  at  a  modernly  equipped 
soda  fountain  for  an  iced  drink,  and  the  secretary, 
M.  J.  Stickel,  stepped  across  to  a  well-filled  cigar 
case. 

*'We  have  all  brands  here,  for  all  tastes,"  he 
said,  smiling.     "Which  will  you  have?" 

*'Is  this  your  wilderness?"  I  queried.  The 
secretary  laughed  grimly,  as  he  flashed  the  prompt 
reply : 

"You  '11  find  that  easily  enough,  perhaps  more 
than  you  care  to  see  of  it !  The  jungle  is  vividly 
real  to  us  down  here — blacker  even  than  it  is 


4         The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

painted — possibly  to  emphasize   the  more' '* 

'This?"  I  finished,  nodding  toward  the  in- 
viting reception-room  behind  me. 

''Oh,  this  is  but  a  small  fraction  of  the  civiliza- 
tion we  are  building — in  order  to  build  the  Canal. 
The  46,000  persons  on  the  Government  pay-roll 
cannot  live  in  a  wilderness,  therefore,  we  must 
civilize  the  wilderness.  We  can't  move  the 
jungle  but  we  can  move  home  comforts — and  we 
are  trying  to  dovetail  the  two.  The  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
club-house  is  only  a  link  in  the  chain.  Yes,  the 
jungle  is  here — ^we  never  forget  it! — and  the  story 
of  its  taming  is  quite  as  wonderful  as  that  of  the 
digging  of  the  Canal,  only  the  public  has  not 
heard  it." 

The  red-underscored  emphasis  merited  by  this 
statement  I  was  soon  to  discover.  As  yet  I  was 
only  on  the  rim  of  the  true  Panama — ^the  pulsat- 
ing details  of  the  twentieth-century  battle  with 
the  wilderness  and  the  type  of  homes,  schools, 
churches,  stores,  amusements  which  it  has  built. 
As  we  pause,  let  me  give  you  a  budget  of  items 
from  my  Panama  note-book,  which  came  to  me  in 
a  rapid-fire  fusillade  in  the  night-and-day  itin- 
erary that  followed. 

Through  a  belt  of  land  ten  miles  in  width  and 
fifty  miles  in  length,  spanning  the  Isthmus  of 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama        5 

Panama  from  ocean  to  ocean,  the  American  flag 
is  dominant  with  the  exception  of  two  points. 
In  the  records  of  the  War  Department,  this  terri- 
tory is  entered  as  the  ''Canal  Zone" — ^the  course 
of  the  proposed  waterway  subdividing  it  almost 
evenly.  At  one  extremity  squats  the  colorless 
town  of  Colon — at  the  other,  the  historic  streets 
of  Panama  rear  their  picturesque  buildings,  the 
only  points  of  the  Canal  territory  which  do  not 
owe  allegiance  to  the  Federal  Government.  Be- 
tween the  two,  the  thin  line  of  the  Panama  Rail- 
road wends  its  winding  jungle-course,  through  a 
color-splash  of  cannas,  orchids,  and  coleus  plants — 
in  three  hours  carrying  passengers  in  its  grimy, 
dusty  cars  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  a 
distance  requiring  three  months  to  traverse  by 
the  present  water  route. 

Dotted  through  the  narrow  land-ribbon  are 
twenty-seven  mushroom  villages  and  wayside 
stations,  some  nearing  the  dignity  of  a  thriving 
American  county  seat,  others  little  more  than  a 
cluster  of  houses  perched  about  a  telegraph  office. 
And  on  both  sides,  stretching  away  for  hundreds 
of  miles,  is  the  deep,  dark,  dismal  underbrush  of 
the  jungle. 

Under  American  jurisdiction  is  a  population  of 
54,325  people,  depending  on  the  Government  for 


6         The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

food,  shelter,  clothing,  to  whose  necessities,  com- 
fort, and  recreation  Uncle  Sam  caters  in  the  heart 
of  a  wilderness  two  thousand  miles  from  the  base 
of  supplies. 

■  In  this  population  are  included  forty  national- 
ities, ranging  from  Austrians  to  Canadians,  from 
Chilians  to  Chinese,  from  Jamaicans  to  Scandina- 
vians. 

Of  the  total  number  of  residents,  nearly  20,000 
are  fed  at  Government  mess  tents  and  hotels, 
making  a  monthly  average  of  one  million  meals 
which  Uncle  Sam  must  serve !  To  meet  the  diver- 
sified tastes  of  the  patrons,  literally  a  world- 
restaurant  must  be  maintained — in  the  tropical 
underbrush. 

From  the  ten-cent  rations  of  the  West  Indian 
negro  and  the  twelve-and-a-half-cent  meal  of  the 
European  laborer,  the  scale  ranges  upward  to  the 
thirty-cent  menu  of  the  Government  hotel — ^and 
not  one  pound  of  the  tons  of  provisions  consumed 
is  obtained  from  the  Isthmus  itself.  A  transpor- 
tation problem  of  nearly  twenty-five  hundred 
miles  must  enter  into  the  preparation  of  every 
meal. 

Further,  the  Government  must  supply  pro- 
visions to  those  residents  who  do  not  board  at 
Federal  quarters.    The  commissary  department 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama         7 

carries  a  pay-roll  of  524  employees  and  its  monthly 
expenses  total  $350,000.  Entries  such  as  the 
distribution  of  fifteen  tons  of  rice  and  three  tons 
of  sugar  a  week  are  common  in  this  wilderness 
department-store. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  jungle,  have  likewise  been 
established  a  Federal  cold-storage  plant,  with  a 
capacity  of  620  tons,  from  which  435,000  poimds 
of  beef  alone  are  distributed  each  month, — an 
artificial  ice  factory,  producing  sixty  tons  daily, 
seven  days  in  the  week, — and  a  Government 
bakery  turning  out  18,000  loaves  every  twenty- 
four  hours,  with  no  Sunday  rest! 

In  the  same  list  follow  a  Federal  laundry  and  a 
printing  office,  with  plans  under  way  for  macaroni, 
coffee-roasting,  pie-and -cake-baking  plants,  and 
even  a  tailoring  establishment!  A  jungle  police 
force  with  208  members  has  been  formed,  eleven 
fire-engine  stations  have  been  erected,  twenty- 
four  schools  have  been  organized  on  this  Central 
American  frontier  with  one  thousand  enrolment, 
and  the  Canal  Commission  has  lately  added  to 
its  pay-roll  eleven  chaplains.  American  energy 
has  even  installed  eight  hundred  telephones  in 
the  wilderness! 

Staggered,  are  you?  And  yet  these  facts  do 
not  include  one  mention  of  the  Canal,  the  central 


8         The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

feature  of  Panama.  This  summary  belongs  essen- 
tially to  the  civilization-builders — ^the  work  of 
the  Canal-builders  is  another  story. 

The  great  jaws  of  the  jungle  swallowed  a  village 
a  few  years  ago — during  my  Isthmus-roamings 
it  was  forced  to  disgorge.  Buried  under  a  mass 
of  tropical  vegetation,  with  outreaching  talons 
like  a  devil-fish,  the  settlement  was  unearthed 
by  the  Government  engineers  after  days  of  back- 
cramping  labors,  where  even  the  blade  of  the 
machete  seldom  found  room  to  strike.  Thirty- 
two  solidly  constructed  buildings — ^nine  married 
quarters,  twenty-two  barracks,  and  a  machine 
shop  dating  from  the  glory  of  De  Lesseps — ^were 
uncovered  beneath  the  tangled  tons  of  foliage, 
which  had  hidden  them  so  completely  that  their 
existence  was  entirely  unsuspected.  As  dusty  pig- 
eon-holes unfolded  the  history  of  the  settlement, 
it  developed  that  it  had  disappeared  from  the 
records  of  men  when  the  French  had  been  routed 
from  the  Canal  Zone  a  generation  ago — with 
millions  of  francs  in  useless  equipment  behind 
them  and  millions  of  francs  in  useless  debt  before 
them.  It  had  needed  but  twenty-five  years  for 
the  talons  of  the  jungle  to  bury  a  village  large 
enough  to  shelter  a  thousand  men ! 

This    is  the  wilderness  that   for  hundreds  of 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama        9 

miles  has  not  known  the  foot  of  a  white 
man,  through  which  Uncle  Sam's  civilization- 
builders  are  stretching  a  twentieth-century 
wonder-chain. 

A  slow-speaking,  bent-shouldered  young  man, 
who  has  an  unobtrusive  habit  of  talking  little  and 
listening  much,  smiled  at  me  across  a  big  paper- 
littered  desk  when  I  sought  the  leader  in  this 
jungle-battle.  Had  it  not  been  for  that  smile, 
I  would  have  been  disappointed  in  my  first  view 
of  the  man,  who  had  been  described  to  me  as  the 
** Backbone  of  the  Canal." 

Jackson  Smith,  chief  of  the  Isthmian  De- 
partment of  Labor  and  Quarters  and  seventh 
member  of  the  Canal  Commission,  has  worked 
too  hard  at  Panama  to  be  prominent  in  the 
public  eye  in  its  roster  of  celebrities.  With  the 
silence  of  the  man  who  does  big  things,  he  has 
laid  the  foundation  upon  which  others  have  built. 
Feeding,  clothing,  sheltering  the  army  of  peace 
that  is  worming  the  Canal-course  from  ocean  to 
ocean  is  the  giant  task  he  has  faced  and  conquered 
— in  cold  figures,  a  greater  problem  than  the 
maintaining  of  the  entire  United  States  regular 
army! 

With  a  curiously  growing  enthusiasm  I  probed 
for   details.      "How    have   you    done    it?"      I 


lo       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

queried  without  preamble,  to  which  he  made 
characteristic  answer  thus: 

''By  organizing  a  small  army  of  experts  for 
taking  care  of  human  beings!" 

Silence  stretched  over  the  next  sixty  watch- 
ticks.  Outside,  the  mid-morning  Panama  sun 
splashed  a  yellow  radiance  down  onto  the  rain- 
washed  red  clay. 

''And  every  one  of  these  experts  was  made  in 
the  thick  of  action,"  continued  Mr.  Smith  as 
easily  as  though  he  had  not  paused.  ''They 
are  men  who  have  been  taught  what  to  do  and 
how  to  do  in  the  shoulder-to-shoulder  school  of 
experience. 

*' Somebody  has  said  that  the  Panama  Canal  is 
the  dumping-ground  for  other  countries'  cast-off 
citizens .  This  is  true  and  not  true.  The  good  in  our 
consignments  of  men  outweighs  the  bad :  a  half- 
man  could  not  do  the  man's  work  the  Isthmus  is 
showing.  Our  experts  must  know  men,  know  them 
as  they  would  know  a  text-book.  The  man  from 
Italy  cannot  be  handled  like  the  man  from  the 
West  Indies  or  the  man  from  Milwaukee.  The 
Italian  has  been  raised  on  macaroni.  The  juiciest 
beefsteak  would  not  appeal  to  him  if  you  banished 
his  macaroni.  The  West  Indian  thrives  on  rice — 
and  nothing  will  take  its  place.    The  man  from 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama      ii 

the  States  is  the  only  resident  on  the  Isthmus 
who  will  eat  anything  and  everything — except 
Panama  cooking! 

*'We  must  have  the  menus  of  Spain  and  Italy 
and  France  and  China  and  the  West  Indies — and 
the  other  thirty-four  countries  from  which  Uncle 
Sam's  Canal-builders  are  gathered.  It  is  an  in- 
ternational menu  we  must  serve  down  here,  for  we 
are  really  feeding  the  globe ! 

''Last  year,"  Mr.  Smith  smiled  as  he  circled 
around  another  bend  of  his  subject,  "3570  men 
were  employed  in  our  building  department. 
During  the  twelve  months,  588  houses  were 
finished — in  the  heart  of  the  jungle,  if  you  please! 
— with  the  supply  always  below  the  demand.  In 
addition,  eighteen  new  mess  halls,  four  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
club-houses,  two  lodge  halls,  four  school  buildings, 
one  church,  and  four  post-ofhces  were  erected — by 
the  men  whom  the  public  never  hears  anything 
about ! 

''Nearly  2500  electric  lights  were  installed  in 
Culebra  alone  during  the  year.  In  the  twelve 
months,  over  1,000,000  pounds  of  lead  were  used 
by  our  house  painters.  Paint  is  a  central  detail 
of  house-building  in  the  tropics.  We  do  not  use 
plaster  or  wall  paper  in  Panama  owing  to  the 
climatic  effects,  and  the  interior  as  well  as  the 


12       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

exterior  of  the  dwelling  consequently  must  be 
thoroughly  painted.  The  temporary  nature  of 
most  of  our  buildings  makes  it  necessary  to  paint 
the  floor  joints  also,  so  that  a  four-room  structure 
on  the  Isthmus  will  require  as  much  paint  as  would 
be  used  on  a  fourteen-room  building  at  home. 

''Our  work  is  not  completed,  however,  even 
when  the  last  nail  of  the  dwelling  has  been  driven, 
and  the  last  plumbing  fixture  installed.  We  must 
furnish  as  well  as  build  the  house.  It  is  clearly 
impossible  for  the  Canal  employees  to  bring  their 
household  furnishings  with  them.  Therefore,  the 
Government  finds  itself  confronted  with  another 
civilization-problem,  and  answers  it  by  supplying 
furnished  houses. 

"Uncle  Sam  is  the  most  generous  landlord 
that  ever  delighted  a  tenant's  heart.  Not  only 
does  he  give  quarters  rent-free,  with  a  liberal 
furniture  allowance  absolutely  gratis,  but  he 
donates  the  electric-light  service  as  well!  With 
the  items  of  rent  and  light  eliminated  from  a 
family's  expense  account " 

"Perhaps  the  increased  cost  of  living  in  other 
respects  is  not   so  heavy,"  I  finished  cynically. 

Mr.  Smith  silently  fumbled  about  his  desk.  He 
was  studying  a  typewritten  table  of  figures  when 
he  looked  up. 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama      13 

'*I  have  here  New  York  market  prices  for 
October,"  he  said  quietly,  "and  those  of  the 
Government  commissaries  in  the  Canal  Zone. 
In  thirty-seven  items  in  a  list  of  sixty-four,  the 
shopper  could  buy  cheaper  at  Panama  than  in 
the  stores  at  home!  In  eight  cases,  the  market 
prices  here  and  in  the  States  were  equal,  in 
nineteen  instances  the  American  stores  offered 
slightly  better  bargains.  Digesting  the  list,  we 
find  that  there  is  an  actual  net  saving  of  $1.50  in 
favor  of  the  Panamanian  markets  in  the  sixty- 
four  articles,  an  average  saving  of  2  J  cents  per 
item!  And  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  New 
York  merchant  sells  at  home,  while  we  must 
consider  a  transportation  of  more  than  two 
thousand  miles  in  the  cost  of  every  item,  with  the 
exception  of  our  fruits.'* 

As  Mr.  Smith  paused  to  explain  that  the  com- 
missary department  is  now  under  the  control  of 
the  Panama  Railroad — like  the  Canal,  a  Govern- 
ment-owned institution, — I  jotted  down  sundry 
items  of  those  vividly  emphasized  market  quota- 
tions.    In  battle  array  they  follow: 


New  York 

:.  Panama. 

cts. 

cts. 

Beef,  stew 
Beef,  corned 
Steaks,  porterhouse 

per  lb. 
((    (( 

14 
12—15 

25 

10 

10 — 14 
22 

14       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 


New  York. 

Panama. 

cts. 

cts. 

steaks,  tenderloin        per. 

lb. 

22 

22 

Veal,  loin 

it 

22 

12 

Veal  for  stewing 

'* 

16 

08 

Mutton,  short  cut  chops  " 

(( 

22 

19 

Lamb,  entire  fore 

quarters                     " 

(( 

14 

II 

Sausage,  pork 

<( 

25 

16 

Turkeys 

(( 

24 

26i 

Eggs,  fresh,  dozen 

35 

34 

Bacon,  strips,  lb. 

25 

23 

Lard,  5  lb.  tins,  each 

85 

65 

Butter  prints,  prime  quality. 

lb.      39 

38 

Cheese,  cream,  lb. 

23 

22 

Oranges,  dozen 

60 

12 

Bananas,  doz. 

15 

5 

Dovetailing  neatly  into  the  exhibit,  is  the 
column  of  figures  given  me  by  S.  M.  White,  the 
Government  storekeeper  at  Colon,  as  sharp- 
teethed  illustrations  of  the  volume  of  business 
surging  through  the  channels  of  Uncle  Sam's 
giant  department-store,  with  its  output  of  eighty 
tons  of  supplies  daily. 

What  the  Isthmus  Eats  in  a  Single  Month 
435,000  lbs.      beef 


15,000    " 

mutton 

12,000 

veal 

14,000    " 

ribs 

2,000 

turkeys 

20,000 

butter 

5,000  gals. 

milk 

5,000 

fowls 

2,000 

chickens 

5,000  lbs. 

liver 

The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama       15 

30,000  lbs.  pork 

20,000    "  beef  loins 

20,000    "  macaroni 

70,000    "  coffee 

468,000  loaves  bread 

Fifteen  freight  cars  are  needed  every  twenty- 
four  hours  to  deliver  the  orders  of  the  jungle 
commissary  department.  Five  cars  of  ice  and 
cold-storage  supplies  leave  Colon  every  morning — ■ 
their  wares  coming  as  a  godsend  in  the  tropical 
wilderness.  Two  more  cars  are  loaded  to  their 
greatest  capacity  with  the  daily  output  of  the 
American  bakery.  One  car  is  filled  with  fresh 
vegetables,  and  seven  cars  with  staple  groceries 
from  the  mammoth  warehouse  every  evening 
ready  to  begin  their  journey  across  the  Isthmus 
soon  after  midnight. 

This  is  how  the  Americans  are  winning  at 
Panama — ^in  the  blackened  trail  of  other  nations' 
failures. 

At  the  wayside  stations,  bordering  the  Panama 
Railroad,  modernly  equipped  commissary  wagons 
are  waiting,  ready  to  carry  to  the  purchaser  the 
list  of  goods,  large  or  small,  ordered  the  day 
before.  A  twentieth-century  delivery  system 
in  the  recesses  of  the  wilderness! 

Through  ten  branch  stores  the  commissary 
department  is  extended  through  the  jungle — and 


1 6       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

in  not  one  station  can  a  purchase  be  made  for 
cash!  A  system  of  coupon-books  has  been  estab- 
lished, whose  checks  range  from  one  cent  upwards 
in  value.  These  only  are  accepted  for  Govern- 
ment purchases.  One  book  may  be  used  at  any 
or  all  stores,  and  is  listed  at  a  cash  basis  of  $15.00, 
individual  accounts  being  kept  with  employees 
in  good  standing,  when  their  books  are  exhausted 
before  the  monthly  pay  day.  To  prevent  a 
possible  conflict  in  prices  at  the  various  com- 
missary branches,  a  general  price  book  is  issued 
every  thirty  days,  and  oftener  in  the  case  of  the 
grocery  department,  which  enables  the  purchaser 
to  know  in  advance  what  his  week's  or  month's 
provisions  will  cost  him,  whether  they  are  bought 
on  the  Pacific  or  the  Atlantic  coast. 

In  vivid  comparison  with  these  strides  of  pro- 
gress, is  the  story  that  only  a  little  more  than 
three  years  ago  it  was  necessary  to  knock  the  old 
French  machinery  of  the  Canal  apart  to  obtain 
nails  for  the  erection  of  bunks! 

Those  were  the  "early  days  "  as  reckoned  by  the 
old-timers — 1904! — ^when  mirrors  were  at  a  pre- 
mium and  men  were  forced  to  shave  by  the  aid 
of  the  window  panes,  when  the  deadly  black 
scorpion  was  an  all-night  bedfellow,  and  a  man 
was  allowed  only  one  hand  to  eat,  using  the  other 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama      17 

the  while  in  a  frantic  effort  to  keep  the  mosquitos 
at  bay! 

Like  a  fantastic  nightmare  these  conditions 
appear  to-day  to  the  man  who,  for  thirty  cents, 
may  order  a  menu  Hke  the  following  at  any  of  the 
fifteen  Government  hotels: 

Oyster  stew;  roast  turkey  (stuffed)  with  cran- 
berry sauce;  beef  a  la  mode;  sliced  tomatoes, 
sugar  corn,  mashed  potatoes,  rice  fritters  with 
vanilla  sauce,  asparagus  on  toast;  banana  custard, 
cake,  watermelon;  tea,  coffee,  and  cocoa.  Or 
this  sample : 

Mixed  pickles;  Rhode  Island  clam-chowder; 
lobster  with  mayonnaise;  roast  young  turkey 
(stuffed)  with  cranberry  sauce ;  French  toast  with 
fruit  sauce ;  asparagus  with  melted  butter ;  potatoes 
in  cream;  chocolate  ice-cream;  jelly  cake,  cheese, 
crackers;  tea,  cocoa,  coffee. 

Can  you  surpass  these  meals — served  in  the 
Panamanian  jungle — for  the  same  figure  at  an 
American  restaurant  ? 

As  a  business  proposition,  does  it  pay?  During 
the  month  of  September,  1907,  there  was  a  loss  of 
roughly  $3000  in  the  $150,000  receipts  of  the 
subsistence  department.  The  month  of  October, 
on  the  other  hand,  furnished  a  profit  of  practically 
the  same  figures.     As  the  balance  sheets  of  the 


1 8       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

two  months  were  spread  before  me,  Superintendent 
J.  M.  McGuire,  of  Ancon,  explained  that  the 
additional  one  day  in  October  was  responsible 
for  the  difference — so  close  is  the  margin  of  the 
department  that  a  month  of  thirty-one  days  will 
show  a  gain,  while  a  month  of  only  thirty  days 
will  indicate  a  corresponding  loss.  Uncle  Sam 
does  n't  make  any  profit,  but  he  gives  his  men 
good  meals! 

In  the  city  of  New  York,  the  death-rate  is 
estimated  at  the  ratio  of  eighteen  persons  to  the 
thousand.  Among  the  white  employees  of  the 
Panama  Canal,  the  death-rate  during  the  month  of 
August,  1907, — the  worst  season  on  the  Isthmus, 
• — was  only  8.57  to  the  thousand,  less  than  half 
of  the  New  York  figures ! 

And  yet  this  is  the  plague  spot,  which  at  various 
times  during  the  early  eighties  wiped  out  forty 
per  cent,  of  the  Canal  employees  of  the  old  French 
regime! 

Negro  residents  at  Panama  furnish  the  bulk  of 
the  mortality,  although  here  again  the  amazing 
work  of  Colonel  W.  C.  Gorgas  and  his  superb 
sanitary  department  is  conspicuous.  Five  years 
ago,  the  death-rate  among  the  blacks  was  120 
per  1000.  To-day  it  has  been  reduced  to  one 
quarter  of  that  figure. 


The  Khaki  Heroes  of  Panama       19 

In  New  Orleans,  Venice,  St.  Petersburg,  and 
Moscow,  the  rate  of  mortality  ranges  from  22  to 
28  per  1000,  in  all  cases  higher  than  the  average 
at  Panama;  in  Alexandria,  Cairo,  Calcutta,  and 
Bombay,  it  ascends  to  from  30  to  48  per  1000.  In 
Madras,  it  even  reaches  the  height  of  58  per  1000. 
It  is  apparent  that  the  Canal  Zone  has  become  the 
most  healthful  spot  which  the  tourist  can  find 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  tropical 
belt  of  the  globe — a  triumph  of  American  sani- 
tary methods,  which  only  the  Panamanian  of 
yesterday  fully  appreciates. 

Last  year,  the  postal  service  of  the  Canal 
Zone  transmitted  $2,318,965  in  money-orders. 
The  bulk  of  this  amount,  $1,724,383,  repre- 
sented the  savings  of  the  5000  American  em- 
ployees, forwarded  to  their  families  or  to  banks 
at  home! 

The  civilization-builders  at  Panama  believe,  as 
a  fundamental  principle,  in  working  with  the  right 
kind  of  material — and  men. 

The  women  at  Panama? 

They  are  there,  in  quantity  and  quality.  The 
Labor  and  Quarters  Department  has  over  500 
applications  for  married  quarters  on  its  waiting 
list  at  the  present  time,  and  the  last  census  of 
the  Canal  Zone  showed  982  white  women  and  758 


20       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

children  already  established  under  Panamanian 
roof -trees. 

It  is  related  that  an  overworked  justice  of  the 
peace  at  Colon  married  eight  American  couples 
in  less  than  eleven  minutes!  The  brides  were 
newly  arrived  from  "the  States"  and  the  wedding 
ceremonies  were  performed  on  the  dock,  the 
young  women  ready  to  follow  the  flag  in  its  wilder- 
ness path  from  ocean  to  ocean — fit  helpmates 
for  the  heroes  who  are  not  soldiers,  the  khaki- 
clad  men  of  the  Panama  jungle. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  MEN  OF  THE  "DIRT"  TRAINS — AND  OTHERS 

THE  section  boss  thrust  his  head  beyond  his 
tent-flap  and  instantly  drew  back  with  a 
hoarse  gasp  of  terror.  Half-dressed  and  half- 
stunned,  he  took  a  cautious  step  outside  the  door, 
and  then  another,  and  another,  until  he  came  into 
full  view  of  the  half -moon  of  twisted,  bloated 
horrors,  swung  on  the  palm  trees  before  him. 

One  hundred  and  twenty-five  coolies  from  the 
Chinese  camp  were  suspended  by  their  cues  from 
the  swaying  branches!  Driven  mad  by  the  gloom 
of  the  jungle  they  had  sought  wholesale  suicide 
in  the  night. 

For  years  the  section  boss  had  rubbed  elbows 
with  death.  He  had  come  to  look  upon  grim 
things  with  a  grin.  But  as  he  digested  the  scene 
before  him,  his  knees  gave  way  and  he  toppled 
forward  in  a  sprawling  faint. 

The  incident  was  but  one  link  in  the  chain  of 
horrors  of  the  Panama  Railroad.     Those  were  red 

21 


22       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

years  for  the  construction  gang  of  the  first  line 
of  rails  to  span  the  American  continent. 

On  a  road-bed  of  blood  the  ties  were  laid  which 
were  to  mark  an  industrial  epoch.  If  it  was  the 
narrowest  point  of  the  continent,  it  was  also  the 
wildest.  Forty-seven  miles  linked  the  Atlantic 
and  the  Pacific  at  this  land-ribbon  of  the  Carib- 
bean but  they  were  forty-seven  miles  of  tragedies. 

With  the  exception  of  a  wandering  adventurer, 
the  engineers  were  the  first  white  men  to  force  a 
way  through  the  jungle  since  the  dare-devil  days 
of  the  Spanish  Main.  And  it  was  the  Devil's 
Own  Cauldron,  in  very  truth,  into  which  they 
plunged. 

There  are  those  who  say  the  road  cost  a  life 
for  every  tie.  Exaggerated  ?  Possibly — but  grim 
facts  show  that  more  than  six  thousand  men  went 
to  their  deaths  in  the  tangled  underbrush  before 
the  last  rail  was  laid!  Every  mile  of  progress 
cost  over  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven   lives. 

The  history  of  those  forty-seven  miles  of  track 
is  one  of  the  most  tingling,  red-blooded  chapters 
in  all  the  records  of  American  railroad  building. 
It  is  more.  It  is  a  monument  to  the  undaunted, 
unrivalled  heroism  of  American  engineers,  which 
no  section  of  the  globe  can  surpass. 

It  is  something  over  half  a  century  ago — ^to  be 


The  Men  of  the  ^'Dirf'  Trains      23 

exact,  in  the  autumn  of  1849 — that  the  first  con- 
struction gang,  bunking  at  night  on  board  a 
cramped  sailing  vessel  in  the  Colon  harbor, 
plunged  into  the  red  mud  of  the  Panama  swamps. 
Waist-deep  in  the  slimy  depths,  forced  to  chop 
every  foot  of  the  way  through  the  heavy,  inter- 
lacing foliage,  the  men  entered  resolutely  into 
the  task  which  was  to  stretch  over  a  period  of 
more  than  six  years. 

In  that  first  year  over  one  hundred  died  from 
snake  bites  alone.  The  victims  of  the  tarantula 
and  the  scorpion  numbered  as  many  more. 

Buzzing  swarms  of  mosquitoes  from  the  pesti- 
lent pools  and  streams  inland  settled  like  a  heavy 
gray  cloud  over  their  shoulders,  bringing  typhoid, 
malaria,  yellow  fever.  Men  died  by  scores  and 
hundreds,  and  their  comrades,  with  the  sickly 
yellow  of  disease  stamping  their  brows,  gave 
them  a  hasty  grave  and  a  hastier  prayer,  and 
plunged  again  into  the  conquest  of  the  wilderness. 

Nature  conspired  to  make  the  picture  yet 
blacker.  Sudden  stretches  of  quicksands  were 
found,  whose  boundaries  were  marked  by  the 
despairing  shrieks  of  stumbling  victims.  The 
swamp  grew  thicker  and  blacker  and  marshier. 
Engineering  statistics  report  that  often  bottom 
was  not  found  at  a  distance  of  180  feet! 


2  4       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Thousands  of  cords  of  wood  and  stone  were 
dumped  into  the  mysterious  morasses  in  a  desper- 
ate effort  to  construct  causeways  for  the  road-bed. 

Even  to  this  day,  in  the  gloomy  shadows  of 
the  Black  Swamp — a  scant  five  miles  from  the 
Atlantic  terminal  of  Colon — ^the  slimy  earth  sinks 
into  a  yawning  cavern,  and  rails,  ties,  and  men 
drop  forever  from  sight.  Once  a  freight  car  was 
dumped  into  the  hungry  morass  in  an  effort  to 
make  a  solid  surface.  Within  six  hours  the  car 
had  disappeared  from  view,  and  the  black  slime 
seemed  to  clamor  for  more! 

It  was  at  Bas  Obispo  that  the  wholesale  suicide 
pact  of  the  coolies  climaxed  the  terrors  of  the 
road-builders.  In  the  early  fifties,  a  consignment 
of  one  thousand  Chinese  had  been  imported  to 
recruit  the  shattered  ranks  of  laborers.  For  six 
depressing  weeks,  the  coolies  struggled  under  the 
lash  of  the  jungle. 

When  the  swaying  burden  of  the  palm  trees, 
in  the  soft  light  of  the  early  morning,  showed  the 
ghastly  fate  their  companions  had  sought,  it  was 
as  a  spark  of  gunpowder.  The  Americans  endeav- 
ored in  vain  to  check  the  mill-race  of  the  panic. 

Before  the  day  was  over,  three  hundred  more 
had  been  added  to  the  suicide-roll.  Scores 
rushed  to  the  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  and  squatting 


The  Men  of  the  ^^Dirt"  Trains       25 

stoically  in  the  sands,  waited  for  the  white  crest 
of  the  tide  to  sweep  them  away. 

It  was  from  Reynolds,  civil  engineer,  and 
Brewster,  mining  prospector,  that  I  heard  the 
story  as  we  sipped  English  ''Cola"  on  the  ver- 
anda of  the  Cristobal  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building, 
just  above  the  blue  Atlantic.  Reynolds  nodded 
to  the  group  of  railroad  men  who  lounged  out  of 
the  reading-room  as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Yes,  it's  a  black-bordered  story,"  he  said 
slowly.  ''The  history  of  the  Panama  Railroad 
isn't  made  up  of  ice-cream  adjectives!  " 

"But  the  men  who  gave  their  lives  for  it  didn't 
die  in  vain,"  added  Brewster  gravely,  and  we  all 
stared  out  at  the  gray  line  of  the  surf  in  silence. 

Afterward,  I  verified  the  date  I  had  in  mind. 
It  was  on  the  27th  day  of  January,  1855,  that 
the  first  locomotive  crossed  the  American  conti- 
nent from  ocean  to  ocean — by  way  of  the  Panama 
Railroad. 

Coupled  with  the  heroism  of  the  builders,  the 
greed  of  the  promoters  has  been  the  outstanding 
quality  in  the  history  of  the  Panama  Railroad. 
In  the  course  of  fifty  years  it  is  estimated  that 
the  line — ^less  than  fifty  miles  in  length — has  made 
a  net  profit  of  more  than  $75,000,000!  In  pro- 
portion to  its  size,  it  has  probably  produced  the 


2  6       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

greatest  earnings  of  any  railroad  in  the  history 
of  the  world. 

It  was  in  1848,  at  the  beginning  of  the  California 
gold  craze,  that  William  Henry  Aspinwall,  John 
Lloyd  Stephens,  and  Henry  Chauncey,  of  New 
York,  incorporated  the  Panama  Railroad  Com- 
pany. From  the  outset,  the  most  amazing  hold-up 
schemes  in  railroad  history  were  instituted.  The 
original  cost  of  the  line  amounted,  roughly,  to 
$8,000,000.  Often  the  profits  totalled  $2,000,000 
annually ! 

For  years  a  passenger  rate  of  sixteen  cents  a 
mile  was  demanded.  Realizing  how  thoroughly 
the  line  dominated  the  trans-continental  shipping 
situation,  the  company  announced  the  most 
colossal  freight  rate  ever  known. 

A  toll  was  established,  amounting  to  fifty  per 
cent,  of  the  transportation-charge  for  the  entire 
distance  between  New  York  and  Valparaiso,  4630 
miles.  In  other  words,  the  shipping  expense  for 
the  forty-seven  miles  of  the  land  route  was  as 
great  as  the  charge  for  the  4583  miles  of  the 
water-route ! 

Enormous  quantities  of  coffee  from  the  Central 
and  South  American  plantations  were  shipped 
to  European  markets  via  the  Panama  Railroad. 
The  total  transportation  charge  was  $30  a  ton. 


The  Men  of  the  '^  Dirt  "  Trains      27 

Of  this  amount  the  railroad  company  coolly  de- 
manded one  half — $15  for  forty -seven  miles! 

The  shipper  was  helpless.  The  railroad  could 
carry  his  goods  from  ocean  to  ocean  in  five 
hours.  On  the  other  hand  if  he  followed  the 
water-route  and  sent  his  products  down  around 
Cape  Horn,  often  five  months  were  required  to 
make  the  same  distance. 

In  the  fall  of  1879,  when  De  Lesseps  undertook 
the  construction  of  the  Panama  Canal  for  the 
French,  the  railroad  w^as  offered  to  him  for 
$14,000,000 — a  rate  of  $2000  a  share.  De  Lesseps 
haughtily  informed  the  company  that  it  was  a 
hold-up  price. 

''Very  well,"  was  the  calm  rejoinder.  ''The 
price  will  advance  $25  a  share  every  six 
months." 

De  Lesseps  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  to 
work.  The  railroad  officials  grinned  and  also 
went  to  work.  The  shipments  of  the  French  sup- 
plies began  to  be  delayed. 

Machinery  which  reached  Colon  in  September 
did  not  arrived  at  Culebra,  fifteen  miles  away,  until 
October.  Cars,  filled  with  French  goods,  were 
mysteriously  side-tracked  and  allowed  to  stand 
for  days  in  the  jungle.  Gradually  De  Lesseps 
realized  that  the  railroad  had  the  upper  hand. 


28       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

''How  much  for  the  stock  now?"  he  asked  in 
desperation. 

''It  is  twelve  months  since  our  first  offer,"  was 
the  reply.    "You  will  have  to  pay  $250." 
■  And  De  Lesseps  paid  it.    Instead  of  $14,000,000, 
the  road  cost  the  French  $17,500,000. 

For  twelve  years  the  Panama  Railroad  remained 
under  French  ownership.  It  was  in  1902,  when 
France  shook  herself  free  forever  from  the  shadow 
of  De  Lesseps'  historic  failure  in  the  Panama 
jungles,  that  the  American  Government  secured  the 
railroad,  together  with  the  entire  Canal  property 
and  equipment,  for  $40,000,000 — less  than  half  of 
the  value  placed  upon  it  by  a  conservative  receiver ! 

Although  both  the  Panama  Railroad  and 
Panama  Canal  are  Government  institutions,  a 
broad  line  separates  the  two.  The  former  handles 
the  dirt  trains  of  the  Canal  entirely  in  the  rela- 
tion of  a  lessee. 

Nearly  three  million  cubic  yards  of  dirt  are 
excavated  by  the  Canal-diggers  every  thirty  days. 
Were  it  not  for  the  Panama  Railroad,  the  question 
of  its  disposal  would  make  the  task  of  the  Isthmian 
Canal  Commission  an  impossibility. 

The  Canal  commissary  has  lately  been  merged 
with  the  railroad,  and  the  operation  of  Uncle  Sam's 
giant  department-store,  at  a  monthly  expenditure 


The  Men  of  the  ''  Dirt  "  Trains     29 

of  $1,000,000,  is  linked  with  the  other  details  of 
the  line.  In  a  nutshell,  the  railroad  is  the  funda- 
mental pillar  of  the  Canal.  When  all  is  done  and 
said,  the  railroad  men,  the  men  of  cab  and  caboose 
and  dirt  train,  will  rank  among  the  heroes  of  the 
Panama  Canal. 

Six  thousand  men  are  carried  on  the  pay-roll  of 
the  Panama  Railroad.  A  passenger  schedule  of 
seven  trains  daily  from  ocean  to  ocean  is  main- 
tained, but  the  bulk  of  the  road 's  labors  lies  in  the 
transportation  of  the  mountain  of  dirt  excavated 
from  the  course  of  the  Canal.  In  the  Culebra  Cut 
alone,  167  locomotives  are  constantly  employed. 

In  the  equipment  of  the  road  are  numbered 
261  engines,  1464  forty-ton  fiat  cars,  and  1200 
dump  cars.  Six  hundred  tons  of  coal  are  consumed 
daily.  For  every  ton  of  coal  that  is  burned  up, 
185  tons  of  dirt — ''spoil"  in  Canal  slang — are 
carried  from  the  "Big-Ditch,"  to  be  dumped  in 
one  of  the  scores  of  disease-breeding  swamps  of  the 
jungle,  or  to  be  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
dams  and  reservoirs  of  the  great  waterway. 

Dotted  along  the  course  of  the  railroad  are 
twenty-six  straggling  stations,  at  nine  tenths  of 
which  passenger  trains  are  scheduled  to  stop. 
Because  of  these  delays  and  the  winding  nature 
of  the  track,  it  requires  two  hours  and  a  half  to 


30       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

traverse  the  forty-seven  miles  of  the  line.  If  the 
speed  of  the  average  train  of  ''the  States"  could 
be  maintained  at  Panama  without  wayside  stops, 
the  passenger  would  be  whisked  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific  in  less  than  sixty  minutes ! 

The  perils  of  the  Panama  Railroad  are  not  con- 
fined to  the  past.  The  red-blooded  chapters  of 
its  building  have  almost  as  thrilling  a  sequel  in 
its  present-day  operation. 

For  example  there  is  the  menace  of  the  outlaw. 
We  were  perhaps  four  miles  out  of  the  Panama 
station  one  November  day  of  1907,  when  a  hoarse 
shout  of  warning  came  from  the  track  ahead. 

A  man  in  a  dusty  suit  of  khaki  sprang  into  the 
centre  of  the  ties,  waving  his  arms  frantically. 
As  the  train  slowed  to  a  reluctant  halt,  the  con- 
ductor muttered  savagely,  "This  is  the  second 
time  this  week.  If  I  had  my  way  we  'd  shoot  every 
outlaw  on  the  Isthmus!" 

"Outlaws?"  I  repeated,  as  we  dropped  to  the 
hard,  red  clay.  He  turned  a  pitying  smile  in  my 
direction:  "Only  about  three  thousand  of  'em," 
he  answered,  "in  a  stretch  of  forty  miles! " 

The  next  instant,  he  was  running  over  the 
ties  toward  the  little  group  ahead  and  I  plunged 
along  at  his  heels.  A  dozen  yards  from  the  loco- 
motive, we  came  upon  a  startling  scene. 


The  Men  of  the  ''  Dirt  "  Trains      3 1 

For  a  distance  of  fully  twenty  feet  the  rails  on 
both  sides  of  the  track  had  been  torn  away  and 
tossed  in  a  half-hidden  pile  over  among  the  jungle 
trees.  At  our  right,  a  sharp  ravine  plunged  down- 
ward from  the  ties,  where  the  train  would  have 
been  sprawled  in  a  jumbled  mass  of  wreckage,  but 
for  the  timely  warning  which  had  checked  our 
progress. 

We  had  barely  escaped  disaster.  Even  to  a 
novice,  it  was  evident  that  train-wreckers  of  the 
most  desperate  type  had  been  at  work. 

The  engineer — ^just  now  a  sweating,  swearing 
man — ^was  speaking,  as  we  reached  the  knot  clus- 
tered about  the  broken  rails. 

"I  say  it's  been  done  in  the  last  two  hours," 
he  said  with  emphasis,  as  his  right  fist  was  brought 
down  into  the  palm  of  his  left  hand. 

The  man  in  khaki,  who  had  shouted  the  warn- 
ing, nodded  grimly. 

''I've  been  watching  this  stretch  of  track  for 
six  hours.  Shanton  has  had  the  police  patrolling 
the  line  ever  since  the  dagoes  tried  to  ditch  you 
Saturday,  you  know.  When  I  went  by  here  two 
hours  back,  the  track  was  clear.  If  I  had  n't 
come  along  fifteen  minutes  ago " 

''I  don't  suppose  you  saw  the  chaps.  Bill?" 
broke  in  the  engineer.    Instinctively,  we  all  glanced 


32       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

over  our  shoulders,  toward  the  dark  Hne  of  the 

jungle  foliage  that  bordered  the  winding  track. 

The  entire  party  could  have  been  covered  by  a 

dozen  rifles  and  none  of  us  been  the  wiser. 

.    The  patrolman  shook  his  head  at  the  engineer 's 

question. 

' '  They  're  too  shrewd  for  that.  A  more  cowardly 
set  never  lived  than  those  gentlemen  of  the  brush. 
They  'd  shoot  you  on  sight  if  they  could  do  it  from 
behind  one  of  those  trees,  but  they'd  dig  all  the 
way  down  to  South  Arnerica  before  they'd  stop 
and  face  you  in  a  fair  fight.  See  them?  Not  on 
your  life!" 

''What's  their  game?"  put  in  the  fireman. 
"Pay  day  is  two  weeks  off. " 

"What  was  their  game  last  week?"  echoed  the 
policeman.  ' 'Those  chaps  know  there 's  no  money 
on  this  train  as  well  as  you  do.  They're  out  for 
pure,  unadulterated  deviltry,  with  no  more  idea  of 
loot  than  that  monkey  in  the  tree  over  there. 
They  would  ditch  you  for  the  cold-blooded 
pleasure  of  it !  That 's  the  stamp  of  outlaws  we  're 
entertaining  down  here  in  Panama,  gentlemen, — 
the  yellowest  breed  on  this  side  of  the  lower 
regions!" 

"Why  don't  you  drive  them  out,  then?" 
I  queried  in  amazement  as  the  passengers  began 


The  Men  of  the  **Dirt"  Trains      33 

to  gather  and  the  trainmen  made  brisk  prepara- 
tions for  replacing  the  rails.  The  patrolman 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

''It 's  cheaper  to  let  them  stay  where  they  are — 
when  you  've  got  a  police  chief  like  ours,  who 's  not 
afraid  to  use  his  gun!  I  guess  the  next  time  that 
the  Spanish  jails  are  cleaned  out,  though,  they 
won't  dump  their  'bad  men'  over  here  in  Panama. 
That 's  the  trouble  now.  We  got  a  consignment 
of  nearly  three  thousand,  when  the  heir  to 
the  Spanish  throne  was  born  and  Alfonso  cele- 
brated with  a  wholesale  pardon — at  our  expense. 
Oh,  railroading  down  here  on  the  Isthmus,  my 
friend,  is  n't  what  you've  been  used  to  up  in  the 
States !    Not  by  a  long  sight ! " 

After  that  introduction  to  the  Panama  train- 
wreckers,  I  was  ready  to  agree  with  him. 

Captain  George  Shanton,  the  Rough  Rider 
head  of  the  Canal  police  force,  gazed  at  the  end 
of  his  cigar  with  a  grunt,  when  I  brought  up  the 
subject  that  evening. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  tough  proposition — eight  hours 
in  an  engine  cab  in  Panama,"  he  admitted  re- 
flectively. 

''There's  more  than  one  chap  over  there  in  the 
jungle,  who  'd  like  to  set  up  as  a  second  Jesse  James 
and  he 's  always  ready  to  show  what  he  can  do  in 


34       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

the  line  of  gun-play.  The  railroad  man  who 's 
looking  for  an  easy  run  had  better  take  a  friend's 
tip  and  go  the  other  way.  But  if  he's  got  red 
blood  in  him " 

"Yes?" 

"We  always  have  room  for  him.  He'll  find 
a  friend's  hand  as  well  as  an  outlaw's  gun.'* 

Shanton  slowly  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 
cigar. 

"And  then,  of  course,  there's  the  dynamite  in 
the  railroad  man's  calculation,"  he  continued. 

"The  dynamite!" 

"We  shot  off  two  thousand  tons  of  it  down 
here  at  the  Canal  in  the  last  six  months.  Can 
you  figure  what  that  would  do  if  it  were  ever 
exploded  in  one  blast?  Little  old  New  York 
would  look  like  a  bowling  alley  after  a  ten  strike." 

"But  the  railroad  man  has  nothing  to  do  with 
that." 

"You  mean  he  wishes  he  had  n't.  When  one  of 
those  giant  blasts  lets  go  in  Culebra  Cut,  all  the 
country  within  two  miles  knows  what  has  broken 
loose.  The  engineer  may  find  half  a  dozen  boulders 
on  the  track  before  he  gets  beyond  the  storm- 
centre.  He  can  count  himself  lucky  if  they  come 
down  on  the  rails  and  not  on  the  cab ! 

"Yesterday,  a  brakeman  was  telling  me  of  a 


The  Men  of  the  ^'Dirt"  Trains      35 

rock  that  came  within  a  foot  of  his  head.  I  sup- 
pose you'll  think  his  yarn  has  a  Munchausen 
flavor  but  we  are  used  to  it. 

*'He  was  walking  the  ties  about  a  mile  from 
Culebra  when  the  dynamite  gang  over  at  the  Cut 
began  to  get  busy.  He  had  brought  his  pipe  out 
of  his  pocket  and  was  striking  a  match  when  a  two- 
foot  boulder  came  smashing  down  over  the  trees 
and  fell  between  the  rails  just  before  him. 

"If  he  hadn't  slackened  his  steps  to  strike  the 
match,  the  rock  would  certainly  have  crushed  his 
head!" 

Shanton  smoked  for  a  moment  in  silence. 
*'0f  course,  we  've  got  to  consider  the  natives 
also,' '  he  added  with  a  smile. 

"Do  they  take  kindly  to  railroad  men?" 

''About  as  kindly  as  they  do  to  the  dirt -train. 
It's  against  the  principles  of  a  Panamanian  to 
get  out  of  the  way  of  any  train.  He  has  a  firm 
belief  that  the  engineer  ought  to  switch  around 
him.  Some  of  them  actually  stand  still  and  grin 
at  the  pilot!" 

"And  what  happens?" 

'*WeIl,  last  week,  three  of  them  were  sent  to 
join  their  ancestors.  Does  n't  seem  to  feaze  'em, 
though,  and  the  new  engineer  from  the  States 
soon  oecomes  used  to  it.    By  the  time  he  gets  his 


36        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

first  pay  envelope,  he  takes  the  ways  of  the  natives 
as  a  matter  of  course. " 

I  was  to  hear  more  of  the  natives  and  the  rail- 
road man  from  Secretary  Bucklin  Bishop,  of  the 
Canal  Commission. 

''I'll  put  it  in  the  form  of  a  story,"  said  Mr. 
Bishop  reminiscently  as  we  chatted  at  the  Hotel 
Tivoli.  "The  native  can  grasp  but  one  idea  at 
a  time.  Endeavor  to  give  him  more  and  he  col- 
lapses hopelessly.  One  idea  is  the  extreme  limit 
of  his  capacity. 

''A  short  time  ago,  the  railroad  officials  were 
troubled  by  the  number  of  unauthorized  passengers 
on  the  freight  trains.  In  spite  of  the  most  rigid 
efforts  to  solve  the  problem,  the  situation  was 
not  improved,  and  finally  a  number  of  native  pa- 
trolmen were  stationed  along  the  track  with  strict 
orders  to  arrest  any  person  jumping  on  or  off  a 
moving  train. 

"Something  less  than  a  day  later  one  of  the 
guards  stumbled  into  the  Culebra  station  in  a 
much-ruffied  condition,  dragging  after  him  a 
vainly  protesting  captive.  Both  had  evidently 
been  through  a  rough-and-tumble  fight,  and  there 
were  unmistakable  signs  that  it  had  not  been 
finished  to  the  satisfaction  of  either. 

"A  crowd  gathered  on  the  run  as  the  guard 


The  Men  of  the  ''  Dirt "  Trains      37 

explained  to  the  station  official,  '  Caught  dis  man 
hoppin '  on  dat  train  about  a  mile  down  de  road, 
sah.' 

''The  prisoner  endeavored  frantically  to  make 
himself  heard,  but  the  patrolman  threatened  him 
into  silence  with  his  stick.  'He  was  half-way  to 
de  roof  when  I  grabbed  him,  sah/ 

"Again  the  prisoner  struggled  and  again  his 
captor  produced  the  club.  'But  I  yanked  him  to 
de  ground,  sah,  just  as  you  told  me,  and  here  he 
am,  sah.' 

"With  a  desperate  effort,  the  prisoner  finally 
jerked  himself  free.      He  was  the  brakeman!" 

The  Panama  Railroad  of  to-day  is  doomed. 
Within  the  next  five  years,  possibly  fifty  per  cent. 
of  the  line  will  be  buried  under  water  to  a  depth 
of  from  thirty  to  eighty  feet.  The  destruction  of 
the  railroad's  present  route  will  be  caused  by  the 
construction  of  the  Canal,  which  for  miles  will 
almost  overlap  the  rails. 

Especially  is  this  true  at  Gatim,  where  the  yel- 
low waters  of  the  Chagres  River  will  be  shot  from 
their  present  course  to  form  a  giant  reservoir,  with 
a  rough  area  of  one  hundred  and  ten  square  miles. 
Within  a  span  of  hours,  the  village  of  Gatun,  now 
boasting  five  hundred  inhabitants,  the  encircling 
jungle,  and  the  narrow  ribbon  of  the  railroad  will 


38        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

be   buried  nearly   one  hundred   feet   under  the 
swirling  stream! 

With  these  facts  in  mind,  a  new  route  is  being 
surveyed  for  the  Panama  Railroad,  and  work  on 
a  second  line  to  replace  the  present  road  has 
already  been  pushed  a  substantial  distance. 
'  In  many  features,  the  new  line  will  outrival  the 
engineering  achievements  of  the  original  road- 
bed. Over  ten  million  cubic  yards  of  "fill"  will 
be  necessary  before  the  rails  can  be  laid  in  position. 

At  Gamboa,  a  1320-foot  bridge  will  span  the 
Chagres.  At  Miraflores,  a  six-hundred-foot  tun- 
nel will  be  constructed,  of  which  four  hundred 
feet  will  be  bored  through  the  solid  rock.  At 
Gatuncillo,  over  three  million  cubic  yards  of  dirt 
will  be  dumped  onto  the  treacherous  lowlands  as 
a  foundation  for  the  road-bed. 

It  was  originally  intended  to  carry  the  new  line 
across  the  Gatun  Dam  on  a  mammoth  embank- 
ment, eighty-two  feet  high  and  seven  thousand 
feet  long.  Borings,  however,  developed  the  fact 
that  the  foundation  would  rest  on  an  insecure 
clay  soil,  and  it  was  necessary  to  abandon  the 
plan.  To  surmount  the  difficulty,  the  engineers 
were  obliged  to  make  a  detour  of  from  eight  to 
ten  miles. 

From   seven   different    points,    four   thousand 


PANAMA  CANAL    MONTHLY  EXCAVATION  BY  STEAM  SHOVELS  AND  DREDGES  SIHCE AMERICAN  OCCUPATION 


MONTHEV 
CirBICYv^RD 
EXCAVATIONS 

Mem 

Jane 
July 


Feb 
Mcli 
Apr 
Maij 
June 
Julu 
Ai:^ 
Sep 

oft. 

NOV. 

Dec 
Jail 
Feb. 
Mch 

l^ay 
Jurte 

Odt. 
Nov 

Dec 
Jan 
Feb. 
Mch. 

May 
June 
July 

nl 

NO  if 

Dec 

Jan. 

Fei. 

Mch 


DIAGRAM  SHOWING  EXCAVATION  DTJEING  EACH  MONTH  AT  PANAMA  BY  STEAM  DKEDGES 
AND  SHOVELS  SINCE  AMERICAN  OCCUPATION 


WORK  DONE,  AND  TO  BE  DONE,  ON  THE 
PANAMA  CAx\AL 


The  Men  of  the  ''  Dirt "  Trains     39 

workmen  are  carrying  the  road-bed  into  the  jun- 
gle, keeping  pace  with  the  Canal-builders  as  the 
completion  of  the  giant  waterway  is  brought 
nearer  and  nearer.  Probably  within  the  next 
four  years  the  new  line  will  be  in  operation.  It 
is  certain  that  if  to-day's  prophecy  is  realized, 
within  this  period  the  turbulent  waters  of  the 
Chagres  will  bury  the  present  Panama  Railroad 
forever  from  the  sight  of  man. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  JUNGLE  AND  CITY 

T  IKE  the  harsh,  metalHc  strokes  of  a  hammer 
^^     fell  the  words  of  doom: 

''The  prisoner  is  sentenced  to  die  at  sunrise, 
for  conspiracy  against  the  Spanish  crown!" 

Over  the  sixteenth-century  Panama  court-room 
dropped  the  silence  of  pulse-tingling  tragedy. 
The  bound  man  before  the  tribunal  of  justice 
straightened  to  a  ramrod  stiffness  and  his  eyes 
shot  a  circle  of  crisp  contempt  around  him. 

Grimly,  the  cordon  of  musket-thumping  guards 
closed  about  his  shoulders,  and  Vasco  Nuiiez  de 
Balboa' — discoverer  of  the  world's  greatest  ocean, 
he  who  wrote  the  first  chapter  in  the  white  man 's 
history  of  the  Pacific- — was  led  to  the  executioner's 
axe  as  a  nation's  reward  for  his  world-stirring 
exploit. 

I  went  one  day  to  Culebra  and  Balboa's  cliff — 

the  crumbling  pinnacle  of  bluff  from  which  his 

eyes  first  swept  the  power- dazzling  vista  of  the 

40 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    41 

Pacific,  still  as  devoid  of  pathway  as  on  that  wild 
September  day  of  15 13.  Within  a  stone's  throw, 
the  steam-shovels  of  the  Canal-builders  were  vom- 
iting their  tons  of  rock  and  dirt,  and  the  crunch 
of  air-driller  and  screech  of  locomotive  and  crash 
of  dynamite  blast  were  making  day  hideous. 

"Gold  Hill"  the  bluff  is  called,  because  of  a 
legend  which  tells  of  tons  of  the  magnet-metal 
under  the  roots  of  the  palm  trees.  It  is  at  the 
foot  of  the  scarred  cliff,  where  the  Niagara-thunder 
of  the  Culebra  Cut  sweeps  through  the  wilderness, 
that  the  hand-to-hand  grapple  of  man  and  Nature 
reaches  its  surging  climax — strangely  enough, 
under  that  point  where  white  men's  eyes  first 
saw  its  ocean  goal. 

From  the  discovery  of  Balboa,  the  Panama 
of  the  Pacific' — the  Greater  Panama- — dated  its 
jungle-birth.  Also  with  the  winning  of  the  Paci- 
fic, the  winning  of  the  golden  land  beyond  the 
Pacific  followed  as  a  natural  segment  of  the  circle 
of  conquest. 

It  was  here  that  Balboa  found  the  second  fea- 
ture in  the  two-edged  climax  of  fame — and  death. 

On  that  day  whose  setting  sun  would  have  seen 
his  expedition  southward  bound  for  the  conquest 
of  Peru,  the  demon  of  jealousy  thrust  a  fatal 
pitfall  in  his  path.    The  rival  hand  of  Pedrarias 


42        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Davila,  Governor  of  Panama,  crunched  heavily 
on  his  shoulder,  and  he  was  whirled  shoreward 
and  prison-ward  as  a  menace  to  the  power  of 
Spain. 

Had  he  outflanked  the  malice  of  his  rival,  his 
heel  would  have  been  at  the  throat  of  the  Incas  a 
full  decade  before  Pizarro ;  the  rifled  wealth  of  the 
Andes  would  have  been  at  his  feet ;  and  two  con- 
tinents would  have  grovelled  before  his  sword. 
He  would  have  been  master  of  the  Pacific  even 
as  he  had  been  its  discoverer. 

Shrugging  his  shoulders,  the  engineer  in  newly 
laundered  white  duck,  who  had  been  recalling 
with  me  the  story  of  Balboa's  end,  stared  out 
over  the  straggling  half-moon  of  present-day 
Panama,  as  we  lounged  on  the  veranda  of  the 
Hotel  Tivoli.  From  our  vantage  point,  the  yellow 
city  glared  at  us' — a  great  blotch  of  sun-baked 
color,  sprawling  between  the  green  billows  of  the 
jungle  and  the  blue  shadows  of  the  ocean. 

"What  a  tale  it  could  tell!"  mused  my  fancy- 
roaming  historian.  "What  a  tale  of  men's 
bravery  and  men's  knavery,  of  blood-lust  and 
gold-lust,  of  naked  blades  and  naked  passions!" 

He  whirled  toward  me,  the  tilted  match  at  his 
cigar-end  forgotten. 

''Balboa  was   but  one   man  in  four  hundred 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    43 

years  of  daring  men,  who  have  fought  and  won* — 
or  lost' — on  Panama  soil.  Old  Panama  was  the 
Gibraltar  of  the  New  World.  The  wealth  of  two 
continents  poured  through  its  gates!" 

"Yes?"  I  probed,  with  the  memories  of  my 
Prescott  sharply  astir. 

*' Spoils  of  Spanish  conquest.  Panama  was  the 
natural  transfer  point  to  the  Atlantic.  It  was  the 
jogging  mule-train  across  the  Isthmus,  with  its 
gold  bars  and  ingots,  that  led  to  the  Canal  of 
to-day." 

My  companion's  voice  tingled  with  a  crisping 
emphasis.  "Before  the  trail  of  the  steam-shovel 
came  the  trail  of  the  sword.  Panama  was  baptized 
by  the  blood  of  the  explorer  and  the  fire  of  the 
buccaneer  before  it  reached  the  concrete  of  the 
engineer.  Behind  the  Panama  of  the  Canal, 
the  Panama  of  Shonts  and  Stevens,  of  Goethals 
and  Roosevelt' — ^have  you  ever  tried  to  picture 
the  Panama  of  Columbus  and  Balboa  and  Pizarro  ? 
Ay,  and  the  Panama  of  the  sea-rovers  and  the 
sea-spoilers,' — when  the  Isthmus  was  swayed  by 
the  Spaniards  and  flayed  by  the  pirates' — Drake 
and  Morgan  and  their  daredevil  crews?" 

My  historian  came  abruptly  to  a  pondering 
halt.  In  silence  we  stared  down  the  circle  of 
the   hill   driveway,    dissecting  his   words   as   we 


44        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

watched  a  razor-boned  cab  mule  come  lurching 
toward  the  hotel  steps. 

*'One,  then,  should  carry  a  pocket-Prescott  for 
an  appreciation  of  the  real  Panama?"  I  suggested 
finally. 

The  engineer  took  eager  issue. 

' '  Not  at  all !  Nature  has  written  the  story  more 
vividly  than  man.  Follow  her  scars  of  the  past. 
They  will  speak  to  you  more  eloquently  than  a 
dozen  volumes!" 

They  did.  And  what  a  seething  panorama 
they  rolled  before  me!  Not  until  the  statue  of 
Christopher  Columbus  in  Colon  harbor  faded 
from  my  view,  and  the  steamer  shaped  her  course 
for  that  other  statue  in  New  York  harbor,  which 
men  call  Liberty,  did  I  realize  the  real  significance 
of  the  words. 

I  had  followed  the  crafty  Pizarro  to  the  jungle- 
buried  stone  tower,  where  he  offered  victory- 
beseeching  vows  on  the  day  of  his  departure  for 
the  conquest  of  Peru.  I  had  emulated  the  pil- 
laging Morgan  in  his  climb  to  the  age-wrecked 
dungeons  of  Fort  San  Lorenzo,  which  the  buccan- 
eer had  won  over  the  bullet-torn  bodies  of  half  his 
men.  I  had  searched  the  serpent-breeding  walls 
of  old  Panama,  blackened  by  the  torch  and  red- 
dened  by  the  sword  of   the  pirate-conquerors — 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    45 

where  the  cowled  priests  of  the  Inquisition  had 
swayed  two  continents  by  the  whispered  horrors 
of  the  underground  torture  chambers. 

By  the  rim  of  the  Atlantic,  I  had  explored  the 
site  of  abandoned  Porto  Bello,  rotting  under  the 
talons  of  the  jungle' — the  festive  market-centre 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  where  the  plunder  of 
the  north  and  the  south  had  flowed  to  the  Spanish 
galleons,  where  had  come  the  hawk-eyed  merchants 
of  the  Old  World  and  of  the  New,  the  swash-buck- 
ling cavaliers,  and  grovelling  mountebanks,  and 
painted  women  of  fortune,  and  rollicking  sailors, 
and  chained  slaves,  and  blanketed  Indians,  each 
with  a  role  in  the  swirl  of  the  wilderness-drama, 
the  prologue  to  the  twentieth-century  romance 
of  the  Canal. 

Athwart  the  time-mellowed  kaleidoscope  of 
Porto  Bello,  flashes  also  the  present-day  menace 
of  San  Bias.  Curving  out  into  the  surf  of  the 
Atlantic  like  a  ragged  turkey's  foot,  is  the  mys- 
terious land-point  which  the  veteran  Panamanian 
nears  with  narrowed  eyes  and  knitted  brow. 
Behind  its  frowning  tree-belt  dwell  the  famous 
and  infamous  Indians  who  have  made  the  name 
of  San  Bias  blood-red  in  Isthmian  history. 

The  bronzed  wanderer  of  the  tropics  tells  you 
that  the  San  Bias  natives  are  the  only  unconquered 


46        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

tribe  of  red  men  in  modern  history.  Never  have 
they  bent  the  knee  of  homage  to  a  foe.  Only  a 
dozen  miles  from  civilization,  never  have  they 
acknowledged  the  yoke  of  the  white  man,  main- 
taining always  a  bullet-emphasized  defiance. 

Skirting  that  wilderness-territory  which  they 
call  their  own,  the  San  Bias  braves  early  in  the 
days  of  the  Spaniards  drew  a  dead-Hne.  Armed 
sentries  were  posted  through  its  windings  to  halt 
the  invader  with  a  warning  or  a  bullet.  Never 
have  they  been  withdrawn.  It  is  a  tradition  of 
the  Isthmus  that  a  white  man  has  never  re- 
mained alive  in  the  San  Bias  territory  without 
an  Indian  escort. 

In  appearance,  the  San  Bias  native  is  the  absurd 
opposite  of  his  martial  reputation.  He  is  seldom 
over  a  squat  five  feet  in  height,  wooden-faced, 
wooden-jointed,  slow  of  speech,  slow  of  action, 
with  stolid  eyes  dropped  vacantly  to  the  dust. 

In  a  morning  ramble  through  the  Colon  market 
place  I  spent  half  an  hour  of  sharp  gestures  and 
sharp  words  in  a  wasted  effort  to  draw  a  cocoanut 
vendor  from  the  San  Bias  region  into  conversation. 
He  was  master  of  pidgin- EngHsh,  voluble  enough 
with  his  muddled  words  when  I  asked  the  price 
of  the  wicked-eyed  parrot  at  his  elbow,  but  a  post 
when  I  ventured  the  subject  of  his  people  and  his 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    47 

history.  When  a  Panamanian  half-dollar  dangled 
enticingly  before  his  eyes  failed  to  open  his  Hps, 
I  knew  the  task  was  hopeless.  Later,  I  found  that 
the  effort  is  always  so.  The  San  Bias  Indian  has 
never  broken  the  rule  of  silence. 

In  the  smoking-room  comradeship  of  the  steamer 
I  chanced  to  meet  the  white  man  who  has  probed 
deepest  into  the  secrets  of  the  San  Bias  wilderness 
• — who  has  the  name  of  having  rubbed  elbows  with 
Death  in  more  guises  and  from  closer  angles  than 
any  other  man  in  bullet-humming  Panama. 

And  yet  for  days,  my  shipboard  digest  placed 
him  as  a  harmless  botanist  or  missionary.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  man  or  in  the  name  to  show 
that  he  had  wrested  a  dozen  fortunes  from  the 
jungle,  or  that  he  had  tramped  daily  and  bunked 
nightly  with  Death  in  doing  so.  Can  you  picture 
Joe  Black — mining  engineer,  gold  prospector, 
Indian-fighter' — a  short,  soft- voiced,  diffident  man, 
with  a  slow,  shy  smile,  much  given  to  corner 
dreaming,  a  hesitating,  retiring  figure  in  his  felt 
hat  of  Quaker  breadth,  precisely  fitting  black  suit, 
and  low-cut  ''lay-down"  collar? 

While  the  gray  twilight  shadows  were  slipping 
over  the  deck  one  evening,  he  wistfully  unrolled 
a  crumpled,  long-packed  Confederate  flag.  Rather 
than  lower  it  after  Appomattox,  his  father  had 


48       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

gathered  his  war-thinned  family  and  made  a  new 
home  on  Mexican  soil.  Caressed  by  the  silken 
folds  was  the  much-thumbed  photograph  of  a 
young  woman.  The  smiling  features  were  those 
of  an  Aztec  princess,  descendant  of  the  conquered 
Montezuma,  who  rules  to-day  the  jungle-survivors 
of  the  perished  nation,  huddled  in  the  eastern 
mountain-fringe  of  Mexico. 

It  was  not  until  our  last  evening  that  I  found 
she  was  his  wife.  What  story  throbs  behind  that 
strangely  mated  union,  I  never  knew.  When  I 
left  him  in  the  Jamaican  moonlight,  he  was  buried 
with  his  thoughts  and  his  romance,  staring  silently 
out  over  the  silver  waves. 

It  was  Black  who  told  me  of  the  wilderness 
gold  of  the  San  Bias  country,  less  than  a  score  of 
miles  from  the  Canal,  which  for  centuries  has 
mocked  the  white  man's  greed. 

"Six  months  ago,  I  sent  an  exploring  party  into 
the  San  Bias  gold-belt,"  said  Black  abruptly,  as 
his  restless  hands  locked  themselves  over  his  knee. 
"  Six  weeks  ago,  my  men  came  back  to  me- — ragged 
skeletons.  Two  of  them  were  limping  with  bullet 
wounds.  Twice  they  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  Indians.  On  the  first  occasion  they  were 
marched  out  of  the  country  at  the  point  of  the 
rifle.     On  the  second,  they  were  bundled  into  a 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City   49 

canoe  and  set  adrift  in  the  Atlantic — ^without  oars. 
If  they  had  been  caught  a  third  time,  it  would 
have  meant  death." 

''Did  they  go  back?" 

Black  looked  at  me  wonderingly. 

"  Of  course;  they  are  American  engineers — and 
their  work  wasn't  done. " 

He  sipped  his  cola  thoughtfully. 

"  Did  they  find  the  gold?"  I  asked. 

The  little  man  across  the  table  nodded  simply. 
**  The  richest  placer  gold  found  in  Central  Amer- 
ica for  years.  'Millions  in  it,'  probably- — just 
beyond  our  reach. " 

' '  You  mean' ' ' 

"  On  the  map  two  inches  will  take  you  from 
Panama  to  Venezuela.  As  a  matter  of  disagree- 
able fact,  four  of  five  hundred  miles  of  unknown 
jungle  lie  between  the  Canal  Zone  and  South 
America.  The  San  Bias  natives  live  at  the  edge." 
If  they  were  attacked,  they  would  retreat  into  a 
wilderness  which  a  white  man  has  never  traversed. 
To  conquer  them  would  mean  the  loss  of  four  or 
five  thousand  lives — on  the  part  of  the  conquerors. 
In  the  meantime,  the  Indians  are  masters  of  the 
gold  supply. " 

When  Black  spoke  again,  it  was  to  utter  a 
prophecy  in  that  curiously  grave  voice  of  his. 


50       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

"Some  day,  one  of  the  greatest  gold-fields  of  the 
globe  will  be  found  in  the  Central  American 
jungle"' — ^he  paused  with  a  strange  smile;  "but 
the  man  who  finds  it  will  probably  leave  his  bones 
on  the  spot!    If  I  were  free " 

But  he  didn't  finish  the  sentence.  The  blank 
was  more  eloquent  than  words. 

On  a  day  when  the  rain-crisped  morning  breeze 
was  whipping  the  waters  of  Colon  harbor,  our 
motor-boat  zigzagged  oceanward  from  the  dock, 
bound  for  the  orange  ball  of  the  sun  and  the  under- 
ground dungeons  of  San  Lorenzo.  Under  a  high 
pressure  of  gasolene,  the  jungle  fortress  and  the 
mud  village  at  its  foot  are  a  sharp  two  hours'  run 
from  the  Colon  water-front. 

To  within  half  a  mile  of  the  foam-churned  shore 
our  boat  wormed  its  way,  and  a  native  dugout, 
with  a  trio  of  shirtless  rowers,  carried  us  through 
the  breakers  to  the  fringe  of  sleepily  nodding 
palm  trees  and  the  gaping  circle  of  villagers  and 
dogs. 

It  was  here  that  the  pimte  crew  of  Morgan  made 
hostile  landing  in  the  sword-slashing  year  of  1670, 
bound   for   San  Lorenzo's  arms- — and  treasures. 

It  is  a  ribbon  of  a  path  that  twists  downward 
from  the  moat  to  the  ocean  edge,  with  frowning 
tree  clumps  and  jagged  boulders  at  every  turn- — 


THE   FORT   AT    ST.    LORENZO,    PANAMA 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    51 

and  in  the  days  of  Morgan  a  garrison  of  three 
hundred  men  behind  the  walls  at  the  end.  As 
we  slipped  and  stumbled  up  the  ragged  trail,  the 
difficulties  of  attack  loomed  larger  and  larger. 

Half  a  dozen  determined  men  behind  that  mass 
of  rock  at  the  right,  for  instance,  where  the  green 
lizard  is  blinking,  or  crouching  on  that  ledge  at 
the  left,  where  you  see  the  clump  of  orchids, 
could  hold  a  hundred  at  bay.  Yet  Morgan  carried 
the  fort  and  put  the  garrison  to  the  sword  in  a 
short  day 's  work ! 

A  sharp,  right-angled  turn  of  the  path  carries 
you  from  the  gloom  of  the  trees  to  the  summit  of 
the  Chagres  bluffs.  Before  you,  so  near  that  you 
recoil,  tower  the  three-hundred-year-old  walls 
of  San  Lorenzo,  weather-blackened,  vine-hidden, 
moss-caked — as  grimly  massive,  in  spite  of  the 
ravages  of  Nature,  as  when  they  faced  the  ravages 
of  man.  Yawning  at  your  feet  is  the  weed-choked 
moat,  and  just  at* your  elbow  the  lowered  draw- 
bridge and  arched  gateway  are  crumbling  to 
decay. 

Half  a  dozen  steps  within  sprawls  a  broken 
pyramid  of  rusted  cannon-balls,  still  in  that  spot 
where  they  were  heaped  by  the  doomed  garrison 
two  centuries  and  a  quarter  ago.  Just  beyond,  is 
a  jagged  patch  of  great  swaying  weeds^  a  man's 


52        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

height  above  the  ground' — in  the  shadows  sug- 
gesting the  last,  desperate  stand  of  the  Spanish 
soldiers  before  the  onrush  of  the  buccaneers. 

The  shrill  voice  of  my  guide  brought  me  sharply 
from  the  past  to  the  present.  Between  his  jabber- 
ing words,  the  Indian  was  pointing  alternately  to 
the  ground  below  him  and  the  rude  brush  torch  in 
his  hand.  Turning  with  a  grin,  he  swung  briskly 
off  into  the  blackening  shadows  at  the  rear. 
When  I  followed  uncertainly,  I  found  him  beyond 
a  downward  bend  of  the  wall,  holding  a  cautious 
match  to  the  uneven  torch.  At  his  shoulders,  the 
mouth  of  a  descending  tunnel  was  thrown  into 
vivid  relief  by  the  yellow  flame.  With  a  silent 
gesture  he  stepped  backward  into  the  darkness. 

When  I  reached  his  elbow,  the  tunnel  had 
broadened  into  a  long,  narrow,  underground 
chamber,  and  dripping  water  spattered  on  the 
stone  slabs  at  our  feet.  As  we  stared  forward, 
there  came  from  the  shadows  a  sudden,  sharp  flap- 
ping, like  the  shaking  of  a  dusty  rug.  The  next 
instant,  a  rush  of  flying  bodies  scuttled  by  our 
torch.    We  had  disturbed  the  dozing  bats. 

Now  I  was  beginning  more  clearly  to  appreciate 
the  details  of  the  chamber,  and  the  series  of  yel- 
lowed iron  rings  on  the  wall,  toward  which  the 
native  was  nodding.     I  took  a  step  nearer,  then, 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City   53 

another,  and  held  the  rings  in  my  hands.  They 
were  the  leg-irons  with  which  the  Spanish  tyrants 
had  bound  their  prisoners. 

Through  the  shadows  stretched  a  long,  grim 
row,  riveted  to  the  stone  blocks  with  heavy,  round- 
headed  spikes.  As  I  bent  my  head,  I  saw  that 
the  opposite  side  was  lined  in  similar  fashion. 
I  had  found  the  subterranean  torture-chamber 
of  the  Spaniards.  Here  chained  men  had  rotted 
to  a  ghastly  death,  losing  reason' — ^let  us  trust- — 
before  Hfe.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  trace 
the  grooves  in  the  rough  floor  made  by  their  fren- 
ized  limbs  in  their  death-struggles.  Never  was 
dayHght  more  welcome  than  when  we  stumbled 
out  into  the  clouded  courtyard. 

** There  the  ghosts  come,"  muttered  my  guide, 
with  sweeping  arm  extended  toward  the  watch- 
tower  that  squatted  upon  the  wall. 

''Sometimes,  when  the  night  falls  dark,  and  the 
wind  is  strong,  they  walk  by  the  cliff."  As  he 
dropped  his  torch,  he  crossed  himself  very  gravely. 

Ghosts  ?  What  a  logical  thought  to  carry  from 
this  fortress  of  eternal  twilight ! 

Secretary  Joseph  Bucklin  Bishop  of  the  Isth- 
mian Canal  Commission  was  summarizing  musingly 
the  show-points  of  special  interest  at  Panama. 

"The  savannah  drive,  by  all  means,"  he  said 


54       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

finally.  ' '  Yes,  you  must  take  the  savannah  drive. 
This  is  the  ideal  approach  to  the  Panama  that 
was.  The  original  city  was  destroyed  nearly  three 
hundred  years  ago,  you  know,  when  Morgan 
raided  the  Isthmus.  The  present  site  is  six  miles 
farther  north.  *' 

It  is  impossible,  however,  for  a  carriage  to  reach 
the  jungle-ruins  of  old  Panama.  The  last  mile 
must  be  covered  on  foot,  through  a  winding  path 
of  red  clay,  while  you  leave  behind  the  vehicle 
which  has  carried  you  past  rippling  savannahs 
dotted  with  the  homes  of  the  wealthy  Panama- 
nians, Paris-educated  mulattoes. 

Beyond  the  four  roofless  walls  of  the  ruined 
tower  of  St.  Augustine,  the  city  which  once  ruled 
the  Pacific  is  traced  only  by  straggling  heaps  of 
masonry.  The  pirates  did  their  work  of  destruction 
well.  And  yet  it  was  through  a  freak  of  fate  and 
not  through  force  of  arms  that  their  pillage  was 
made  possible. 

When  the  buccaneers  appeared  in  sight  of  the 
walls  of  Panama,  the  garrison  sallied  beyond  the 
gates  to  give  battle.  In  the  city  was  a  drove  of 
restless  cattle  chafing  for  lack  of  food.  As  the 
pirates  advanced  to  the  attack,  the  Spaniards  cut 
the  ropes  and  turned  the  surging  animals  loose 
upon  the  hostile  column.    The  musketry,  however, 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    55 

had  fired  the  intervening  brush.  Suddenly  a  leap- 
ing wall  of  flames  stretched  itself  before  the  charg- 
ing cattle.  The  animals  were  forced  to  a  dazed 
halt,  and  then  turned  back  in  greater  frenzy  than 
before.  To  and  fro,  among  the  panic-stricken 
Spaniards,  they  pounded,  their  plunging  hoofs 
driving  the  garrison  in  hopeless  route,  as  the 
buccaneers,  with  victorious  shouts,  forced  their 
way  through  the  flames  and  into  the  defenceless 
city. 

Thus  did  Panama  the  Golden,  the  swayer  of 
the  western  continent,  meet  its  end. 

To  go  back  to  the  halcyon  days  of  the  dead 
nations  of  the  Intecs  and  the  Aztecs,  and  put 
a  value  of  millions  upon  the  treasure-trove  whose 
golden  current  wound  through  the  Panamanian 
jungle,  is  much  like  trying  to  read  in  the  dark. 
The  men  who  have  spent  a  life  among  the  hiero- 
glyphics of  stone  and  parchment  tell  us  that  the 
necklaces  and  bracelets  and  anklets  of  those 
erstwhile  masters  of  the  western  continent,  if 
thrown  on  the  modern  market,  would  bury  the 
twentieth-century  output  of  precious  stones. 
It  is  certain  that  when  the  Aztecs  and  Toltecs 
held  Mexico,  gold  was  more  plentiful  among  them 
than  copper  is  in  the  United  States  to-day.  Au- 
thentic   history    relates    that    often    the    most 


56        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

common  household  utensils  were  fashioned  of 
beaten  silver. 

It  is  a  conservative  statement  that  the  loot 
which  flowed  through  old  Panama  was  as  great  as 
the  expenditure  for  the  present-day  Canal.  Many 
authorities  would  place  the  amount  much  higher. 
It  is  reasonably  certain,  however,  that  the  plun- 
der wrested  by  the  Spanish  sword  from  the  Monte- 
zumas  of  Central  America  and  their  brethren  of 
South  America  would  reach  five  hundred  million 
dollars. 

Nor  is  this  the  most  startling  angle  of  view. 
Historians  unite  in  the  statement  that  gigantic 
as  was  the  loot  of  the  conquerors,  the  treasures 
hidden  by  the  conquered — which  have  never  been 
found' — ^were  fully  ten  times  as  great ! 

The  man  who  knows  the  tropics  first-hand 
receives  as  unvarnished  truth  the  tales  of  buried 
cities  and  buried  treasures,  which  the  modern 
American  digests  as  the  fanciful  dreams  of  a  nov- 
elist who  has  been  burrowing  into  Mexican  history. 
There  are  a  dozen  mining  engineers  at  Panama, 
whose  paths  have  led  southward  into  Peru  or 
northward  into  Mexico,  who  will  tell  you  that  the 
tattered  Indian  trying  to  sell  you  yams  or  bananas 
could  lead  you  to  hidden  mines  rich  beyond  the 
visions  of  man.     Prescott  will  tell  you  the  same, 


r ■ ,■    ^^ ■  ■ 

m 

..- :    _.                      «             _:£   i^ 

< 


&  o 

I  g 

5  < 

<  o 


The  Romance  of  Jungle  and  City    57 

if  you  delve  into  the  ponderous  volumes  he  has 
given  to  the  subject.  Even  the  greed  of  a 
Pizarro  or  a  Cortez  failed  to  find  all  of  the  jungle 
wealth  of  the  kings  who  once  ruled  above  and 
below  Panama  the  Golden. 

And  again,  when  the  Spaniards  met  the  con- 
querors in  their  turn,  the  sword  of  the  buccaneer 
missed  millions  where  it  found  thousands.  To 
cheat  the  pirates,  great  chests  of  gold  and  silver' — 
bound  for  the  court  of  Spain — ^were  cast  fathoms 
deep  into  the  blue  waters  of  the  Pacific.  When 
the  doom  of  Panama  was  seen,  three  galleons, 
heavily  laden  from  the  Peruvian  mines,  were 
anchored  in  the  harbor.  Within  an  hour,  great, 
ragged  holes  had  been  chopped  in  their  bot- 
toms by  the  crews,  and  they  were  sunk  forever 
from  the  sight  of  man,  bearing  their  sword-won 
treasure  with  them.  We  were  drifting  over  the 
spot  in  a  Government  scow  when  I  heard  the 
story. 

There  are  other  tales  of  similar  trend  that  you 
can  find  by  the  score.  Every  man  who  has 
tramped  the  tropics  a  year  has  another  which  he 
thinks  is  new  until  he  meets  the  man  who  heard  it 
twenty  years  before.  Occasionally,  you  find  the 
story  that  has  come  true  and  hear  the  tale  of 
the  treasure  that  was  found,  but  not  often,  for  the 


S8        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

craft  of  the  red  man  and  the  white  man  who 
•swayed  Panama  in  the  days  of  long  ago  was 
deep  and  subtle  and  picked  its  hiding-places 
well. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HOW  THE  "dirt"  FLIES  AT  PANAMA 

TTOW  big  is  the  Panama  Canal,  not  in  puzzling 
•*■  mechanical  specifications,  but  in  easy-join- 
ted, square-toed  English?  When  all  is  said  and 
done,  how  fast  is  it  really  being  dug?  What  have 
the  Americans  actually  accomplished  since  the 
flitting  of  the  French?  What  is  the  Canal  going 
to  cost  and  how  is  the  money  being  spent  ?  How 
is  the  waterway  to  affect  the  map  of  the  world 
when  it  becomes  a  reality  ?  And  what  is  it  going 
to  mean  to  you,  an  American  citizen? 

A  battery  of  sharp-spiked  queries — ^what  facts 
will  it  drive  home?     Listen! 

Every  two  minutes  a  ton  of  coal  is  burned  up 
at  Panama,  every  minute  twelve  carloads  of  rock 
and  gravel  are  torn  from  the  earth,  every  hour 
1666  pounds  of  dynamite  are  exploded  in  moun- 
tain and  jungle,  every  minute  $124  is  spent  for 
labor  1 

One  hundred  and  sixty -seven  locomotives  are 
59 


6o       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

shrieking  and  creaking  in  the  nine-mile  ribbon  of 
the  Culebra  Cut, — 10,000  shirtless  men  are  sweat- 
ing and  swearing, — 1250  fiat-cars  are  rumbling 
and  grumbling!  One  hundred  and  six  miles  of 
track  split  the  gorge — a  dozen  sets  of  rails,  in  a 
width  of  200  and  300  feet,  are  hung  in  tiers  one 
above  the  other.  Sixty-seven  steam  shovels  are 
plunging  twenty -ton  scoops  into  the  earth  two 
and  three  times  every  minute.  Over  2,000,000 
cubic  yards  of  earth  are  being  wrested  from  the 
rainbow  strata  of  soil  every  thirty  days.  And  on 
the  two  sides  of  the  inferno  squat  the  twin  peaks 
of  Gold  and  Snow  Hills  like  a  couple  of  apples 
which  a  schoolboy  has  nearly  bitten  through. 

Roughly,  a  hole  measuring  97,515,000  cubic 
yards  must  yet  be  bored  in  the  Panama  clay  to 
make  the  Canal  a  reality.  When  the  French  were 
routed,  81,500,000  cubic  yards  had  been  excavated. 
The  Americans  have  added  42,000,000  cubic  yards 
to  this  total. 

Picture  a  chasm  measuring  125  feet  in  every 
direction,  in  which  could  be  buried  twenty-five 
ordinary  three-story  houses  forty  feet  in  height, 
in  width,  and  in  length.  The  equivalent  of  such 
a  chasm  is  bored  every  day  along  the  course  of 
the  Panama  Canal — ^the  excavation  amounting  to 
nearly  2,000,000  cubic  feet  daily. 


How  the  ''Dirt"  Flies  at  Panama    6i 

From  still  another  angle,  let  us  view  the  marvel 
of  the  great  waterway.  Loaded  onto  a  train,  the 
earth  from  the  Canal  would  fill  twelve  cars  every 
minute!  One  flat-car,  thirty-eight  feet  in  length, 
would  be  loaded  every  five  seconds !  An  average 
day's  excavation  would  fill  5868  of  these  cars. 
Coupled  together  they  would  make  a  continuous 
train  thirty-four  miles  in  length.  If  it  were  placed 
on  the  rails  at  one  time,  it  would  extend  very 
nearly  across  the  Isthmus.  If  the  rear  car  were  at 
the  Colon  station  the  engine  would  be  approaching 
the  city  of  Panama.  Of  course  you  are  familiar 
with  the  city  dump  carts.  The  ' '  dirt "  flying  from 
the  Canal  would  fill  183  of  these  carts  every  min- . 
ute.  In  less  than  six  minutes  over  1000  would 
be  groaning  under  the  weight  of  the  Isthmus  clay. 

Let  us  bring  the  statistics  of  the  Canal  home 
with  us.  If  the  earth  excavated  during  one  year 
were  dumped  down  in  the  city  of  New  York  it 
would  cover  completely,  to  a  depth  of  twelve 
inches,  that  portion  of  Manhattan  Island  extending 
from  the  North  to  the  East  River  and  bounded 
by  Fifty -ninth  Street  and  the  Battery.  But  we 
have  not  done,  for  there  would  be  left  enough  to 
form  a  blanket  over  the  entire  area  of  Central 
Park — five  feet  thick! 

Allowing  a  monthly  excavation  of   2,000,000 


62        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

cubic  yards,  which  arose  twice  to  3,000,000  during 
the  year  1908,  the  actual  digging  at  Panama 
should  be  completed  in  four  years*  time.  This 
statement  allows  no  margin  for  accidents  and 
views  the  30,000  workmen  at  Panama  as  so 
many  automatons,  moving  with  clock-work  reg- 
ularity. When  it  is  remembered  that  they  are 
gathered  from  the  four  points  of  the  compass — 
men  who  cannot  talk  to  their  neighbors  on  the 
right  or  on  the  left- — and  dropped  into  the  heart 
of  an  untamed  jungle,  under  a  tropical  sun,  the 
difficulties  of  maintaining  clock-work  system  can 
be  appreciated. 

As  to  the  question  of  concrete :  To  the  average 
man,  the  word  calls  to  mind  the  contents  of  a 
seven-  or  eight-foot  trough,  mixed  by  a  pair  of 
perspiring  carpenters  with  spattered  hoes.  In 
the  swirl  of  twentieth-century  activities,  the  con- 
crete house  has  come  to  rank  as  a  rival  to  its 
neighbors  of  brick  or  wood.  Can  you  keep  such 
a  house  of  concrete  in  mind  for  an  instant- — one 
perhaps  thirty  feet  square  ?  Now,  I  am  going  to 
try  to  bring  the  Panama  Canal  to  your  town. 
The  concrete  used  in  the  three  giant  lock  systems 
■ — Gatun,  Pedro  Miguel,  and  La  Boca — ^would  build 
22,842  houses  of  eight  rooms  each,  with  two  stories 
and  a  basement ! 


How  the  *'Dirt"  Flies  at  Panama    63 

If  your  town  or  city  has  a  population  not  ex- 
ceeding 125,000,  the  concrete  of  the  Panama  Canal 
would  furnish  the  material  for  houses  sufficient 
to  accommodate  every  person!  Suppose  each 
house  were  set  on  a  seventy -five  foot  lot.  The 
combined  dwellings  would  line  three  streets,  reach- 
ing clear  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  with  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  washing  the  back  yards  at  one 
extremity  and  the  tides  of  the  Pacific  flooding 
those  at  the  other.  Even  after  both  sides  of  the 
streets  were  filled,  there  would  be  enough  houses 
left  to  reach  almost  half  the  distance  again. 

Transferring  these  statistics  to  "the  States," 
we  could  fill  both  sides  of  a  street  extending  all 
the  way  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia,  with 
enough  dwellings  left  over  to  line  one  side  of  a 
street  from  the  Quaker  City  to  the  Capital.  Or, 
going  westward,  you  could  fill  one  side  of  an 
avenue  reaching  from  St.  Louis  to  Chicago,  or 
you  could  extend  your  street  from  St.  Louis  to 
Kansas  City,  or  almost  to  Cincinnati ! 

Much  of  the  earth  taken  from  one  part  of  the 
Panama  Canal  is  used  to  build  another  part. 
This  is  not  true  of  all  of  it,  however.  Thou- 
sands of  carloads  are  turned  into  the  swamps  and 
morasses  in  whose  green  depths  are  bred  the 
fever-bearing   mosquitoes  of  the   Isthmus.    The 


64       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

importance  of  this  fact  comes  with  sledge-hammer 
force  in  the  statement  that,  in  1906,  one  hundred 
thousand  grains  of  quinine  were  consumed  daily 
in  Panama  as  a  protection  against  disease!  The 
excavated  earth  has  filled  the  pest-holes  and  has 
thus  materially  aided  those  measures  of  the 
sanitary  campaign  that  have  reduced  the  quinine 
rations  by  two  thirds ! 

Beyond  the  partly  accomplished  work  of  exca- 
vation, looms  the  giant  task  of  constructing  locks 
and  dams.  The  Gatun  Dam,  alone,  has  a  surface 
measurement  of  1,000,000,000  square  feet  and  a 
depth  of  787  feet!  Nature,  harnessed,  will  per- 
form the  bulk  of  this  project  through  the  turbu- 
lent waters  of  the  yellow  Chagres.  A  period  of 
two  years  in  the  Canal  total  will  cover  man 's  con- 
tribution to  this  feature. 

Jot  down  the  final  item  in  the  problem,  the 
locks  and  the  deep-water  jetties,  and  the  date 
which  has  been  set  for  the  completion  of  the 
Big  Ditch — ^the  latter  part  of  191 4  or  the  early 
part  of  1 91 5 — assumes  the  proportions  of  reality. 

When  the  Canal  Zone  concession  was  obtained 
from  the  Panamanian  government  it  cost  $50,000,- 
000  in  cold  cash.  It  has  required  $75,000,000 
more  to  dig  the  Canal  to  its  present  point.  Con- 
gress appropriated  $30,000,000  for  the  expense  of 


How  the  *'Dirt"  Flies  at  Panama    65 

the  year  ending  December  31,  1908.  Optimists 
place  the  total  expense  at  $300,000,000.  Pessimists 
do  not  pause  short  of  $500,000,000.  It  is  probable 
that  in  the  end  the  Canal  will  mean  a  per  capita 
cost  of  at  least  five  dollars  for  every  one  of  the 
80,000,000  inhabitants  of  the  United  States. 

And  for  what  are  these  millions  being  used?' — 
for  what  are  they  going  to  be  used  ? 

A  payroll  of  $1,434,000  has  to  be  met  every 
month' — in  a  year 's  time,  an  expenditure  exceed- 
ing $17,000,000.  This  item  for  employment  alone, 
remember.  At  the  last  census,  Uncle  Sam  was 
giving  work  to  3 1 , 92  4  men.  It  is  costing  anywhere 
from  $150,000  to  $250,000  a  month  to  protect  the . 
health  of  Panama.  In  an  average  month  the  sani- 
tary department  costs  $200,000.  The  expenses 
of  the  civil  administration  present  a  monthly 
total  of  from  $53,000  to  $67,000.  More  than 
$100,000  a  month  is  being  spent  in  municipal 
improvements. 

A  gingerbread  trimming,  this?  Perhaps- — but 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Panama  of  to-day 
is  literally  built  on  a  pie-crust  over  a  seething 
pest-hole.  Ten  years  ago,  some  fifty  men  in 
every  1000  were  dying  annually  from  the  tropical 
death  vapors.  Just  as  in  war  time  a  heavy  de- 
tachment of  scouts  and  pickets  is  needed  in  the 


66        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

enemy's  country,  so  in  the  battles  of  peace  at 
Panama  a  wide  line  of  outlying  sentries  is  neces- 
sary in  the  grapple  with  the  disease  germs.  The 
elaborate  sanitary  department  and  the  system 
of  municipal  engineering  may  be  money  thrown 
away' — but  it  is  either  money  or  lives.  And  it  is 
greatly  to  be  doubted  if  the  lives  would  be  forth- 
coming with  the  same  readiness  as  the  money ! 

About  $500,000  is  spent  annually  for  coal. 
Up  to  the  present  time,  over  $8,000,000  has  been 
expended  for  new  buildings.  It  requires  about 
$115,000  every  twelvemonth  to  protect  this  prop- 
erty from  fire.  The  expenses  of  equipment  pass 
the  $1,000,000  mark  every  thirty  days. 

And  so  the  money  flies  even  as  the  "dirt"  flies 
at  Panama.  But  dollars  will  not  dig  the  Canal. 
The  French  had  the  money  and  they  spent  it. 
I  recall,  for  example,  an  item  of  some  20,000  snow- 
ploughs  which  were  shipped  to  the  Isthmus  during 
De  Lesseps'  regime.  The  rusty  machinery  can 
be  seen  even  to  this  day  by  the  curious — stored 
away  in  a  territory  where  the  average  tempera- 
ture is  no  degrees!  This  is  how  the  French  spent 
their  bilHon  of  francs.  Even  the  most  habitual 
growler  will  admit  that  the  Americans  are  at  least 
doing  better  than  this. 

Divide  the  bulk  of  Texas  by  eight  and  the  result 


How  the  '*Dirt"  Flies  at  Panama    67 

will  be  the  area  of  the  republic  of  Panama. 
Through  a  territory  of  32,800  square  miles  is  a 
straggling  population  of  360,000  people.  The 
seeker  after  accuracy,  however,  will  elevate  his 
eyebrows  at  once.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  popu- 
lation of  Panama  is  confined  to  one  third  of  the 
gross  area  claimed  by  the  republic.  Probably 
one  half  of  the  country  has  never  known  the  foot 
of  a  white  man.  Nine  tenths  of  it  is  frowning 
jungle. 

In  a  span  of  half  a  block  in  the  city  of  Panama, 
I  read,  in  fat-lettered  English,  squatting  bill- 
board advertisements  of  a  popular  make  of  over- 
alls and  a  much-lauded  brew  of  beer — in  clumsily 
traced  Spanish,  I  spelled  out  the  announcement 
of  a  coming  bull-fight  and  a  Sunday  evening 
lottery.  Such  are  the  two  civilizations  of  the 
Canal  Zone. 

On  the  one  side  of  the  dusty  cars  of  the  Pan- 
ama Railroad,  I  bought  a  morning  newspaper.  On 
the  other  side,  I  looked  through  the  windows  into 
a  bamboo  hut,  with  naked  black  children  and 
green  lizards  and  grinning  monkeys. 

In  the  union  of  these  two  civilizations,  with 
a  trackless  jungle  before  and  behind,  Uncle  Sam 's 
Canal-builders  are  making  new  engineering  re- 
cords every  week  and  smashing  them  next  week 


68       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

like  eggshells.  And  it  is  because  they  can  do  so 
that  they  are  achieving  that  which  other  genera- 
tions and  other  nations  have  for  centuries  labelled 
the  impossible — ^the  joining  of  the  world's  two 
greatest  oceans. 


CHAPTER  V 

COLON  AND  BEYOND 

ASK  the  man  who  has  spent  a  knock-about 
day  in  Colon  what  is  the  city 's  chief  charac- 
teristic, and  he  will  point  to  his  splashed  boots 
and  answer  with  a  surly  growl,  ''Mud!" 

And  he  is  right.  It  has  ever  been  so— and  ever 
will  be.  It  is  as  though  Nature  had  made  the  city 
with  a  blot  and  no  one  had  been  able  to  erase  it. 
During  eight  months  of  the  year  it  rains  at  Pan- 
ama, not  as  we  know  it  at  home — ^not  at  all !  The 
rain-maker  at  Panama  labors  with  a  steady,  re- 
lentless, unswerving  will  as  though  he  belonged 
to  the  steam-shovellers*  union  of  the  Canal  and 
was  working  each  month  to  beat  his  record  of  the 
month  before.  And  of  the  Panama  rain.  Colon 
receives  at  least  two  thirds.  At  least  that  is  the 
way  the  visitor  feels  about  it. 

Yet  they  laugh  at  umbrellas  at  Colon.     As  a 

matter  of  disagreeable  fact,  an  umbrella  is  as 

little  protection  in  a  Panama  deluge  as  the  paper 

69 


7o       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

lantern  fluttering  in  the  little  Japanese  bazaar 
at  your  elbow. 

So  after  all,  the  mud  comes  as  a  matter  of  course. 
And  by  the  time  you  have  plodded  through  the 
market-place  and  along  the  dreary  length  of  Front 
Street  and  across  to  Cristobal  and  the  rain- 
dripping  statue  of  Christopher  Columbus,  you  are 
used  to  it — if  you  are  a  philosopher. 

Colon  is  long  and  low  and  flat.  There  is  a  squat 
half-circle  of  hills  off  at  your  right  but  they  are 
not  high  enough  nor  sharp  enough  to  change  the 
colorless  perspective.  The  city  does  n  't  put  itself 
out  to  interest  the  traveller.  It  goes  on  the  yawn- 
ing theory  that  he  ought  to  be  able  to  entertain 
himself,  so  with  the  exception  of  the  bronze  statue 
of  our  old  friend,  Columbus,  somewhat  the  worse 
for  wear,  and  De  Lesseps '  palace  in  the  same  vicin- 
ity, also  the  worse  for  wear,  Colon  has  no  public 
attractions.  And  always  the  city  impresses  you 
as  just  awakening  from  a  sound  sleep  and  still 
engaged  in  digging  the  tag  ends  of  troubled  dreams 
out  of  its  eyes. 

From  all  of  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  Colon 
is  apt  to  be  disappointing.  It  is  even  depressing — 
discouraging,  if  you  are  gauging  the  republic  of 
Panama  by  the  impressions  of  its  Atlantic  gate- 
way.    This  is  not  fair,  however,  either  to  your- 


Colon  and  Beyond  71 

self  or  to  Panama — for  Colon  is  as  far  from  the 
kernel  of  the  Isthmus  as  the  shuffling  Jamaican 
negro  is  from  the  Paris-educated,  Paris-clothed 
mulatto  of  the  Panama  savannahs. 

Colon  is  not  so  different  from  certain  thriving 
cities  of  the  North  in  the  fact  that  its  business 
activities  are  confined  to  one  street.  And  the  one 
street  is  appropriately  named.  Stray  from  Front 
Street  and  before  you  have  gone  half  a  block 
you  will  be  stumbling  through  the  city's  back 
alleys. 

Also  Colon  does  not  believe  in  sky-scrapers. 
Most  emphatically  not.  In  the  whole  length  of 
Front  Street,  there  is  not  a  building  over 
two  stories  in  height  and  the  majority,  the  great 
majority,  do  not  rise  above  the  first  story. 

You  have  not  finished  your  first  block  before 
you  are  aware  that  the  Japanese  have  cornered 
the  business  market.  Look  where  you  will,  you 
will  find  that  every  other  merchant,  banker,  and 
even  gingerbread  peddler  is  a  son  of  the  Flowery 
Kingdom.  Front  Street  is  made  up  of  a  dozen 
blocks  of  shed-like,  disjointed  stores  on  the  left- 
hand  side,  which,  if  you  be  artistically  inclined, 
you  try  to  imagine  as  ''bazaars" — on  the  right- 
hand  side  are  eight  or  ten  rows  of  rusty,  weather- 
worn freight  cars,  the  majority  forgotten  in  their 


72        The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

solitude,  with  a  few  joined  to  creaking,  complain- 
ing engines  blowing  an  asthmatic  way  along  the 
rim  of  the  blue-gray  Atlantic,  whose  soggy  docks 
are  perhaps  a  stone's  throw  distant.  Over  at 
the  side,  you  can  trace  a  clump  of  nodding  palm 
trees,  wet  and  forlorn  against  the  slate  sky — ^the 
chief  touch  of  the  tropics  in  the  circle  of  the  rainy 
afternoon. 

The  American  engineers  have  made  seven- 
leagued  strides  in  the  task  of  municipal  house- 
cleaning  at  Colon.  The  pavement  of  Front  Street 
presents  a  surface  of  even,  well-set  brick,  while 
the  more  important  of  the  side  streets  are  grad- 
ually partaking  of  a  similar  dignity — a  vivid  con- 
trast to  the  squalor  of  the  littered  alleys  to  the 
right  and  left.  It  is  much  as  though  a  vigorous 
broom  had  been  at  work  in  an  attic,  and  had  left 
heaps  of  refuse  at  the  sides  and  in  the  corners, 
while  the  centre  had  been  brushed  clean. 

As  we  pause  in  the  shelter  of  a  corner  store, 
where  an  assortment  of  bead  ornaments  compete 
with  a  stack  of  native  skins  for  our  patronage,  a 
spick-and-span  wagon  from  the  Government  com- 
missary clatters  down  the  street,  a  vivid  contrast 
to  the  nondescript  vehicle  of  the  Colon  cab- 
man lurching  behind.  A  brown- skinned  Panama- 
nian girl,  with  a  scarlet  ribbon  in  her  black  hair, 


Colon  and  Beyond  73 

offers  us  a  wooden  platter  of  ginger  cakes  and 
cocoanut  candies.  A  Colon  policeman — his  five 
feet  two  inches  as  stiff  as  a  ramrod — whirls  his 
stick  idly  as  he  saunters  by  in  his  dripping  blue 
uniform.  Inside  the  open  door  of  the  bazaar,  a 
swinging  parrot  sputters  strange  oaths  at  us, 
while  a  solemn-faced  monkey  in  the  corner  tries 
to  catch  our  attention  with  his  pranks.  We  are 
beginning  dimly  to  realize  that  we  have  reached 
the  American  Canal  Zone — and  that  it  is  a  foreign 
land. 

A  brisk  walk  of  half  a  dozen  blocks,  however, 
changes  the  picture  completely.  We  step  from 
one  civilization  into  another — almost  from  one 
century  into  another.  We  have  gone  from  the 
sleepy  Spanish  city  of  Colon  to  the  wide-awake 
American  settlement  of  Cristobal. 

An  invisible  boundary  divides  the  two,  in  its 
way,  however,  as  distinct  and  emphatic  a  dead- 
line as  was  ever  surveyed.  Colon  is  a  part  of  the 
republic  of  Panama.  It  is  governed  by  Panama- 
nian laws,  dozes  its  time  away  in  Panama- 
nian shiftlessness,  and  is  bound  hard  and  fast  by 
Panamanian  customs  and  Panamanian  traditions. 
The  first  step  into  Cristobal  whisks  the  visitor 
into  an  aggressive  American  atmosphere  with  a 
bewildering  abruptness. 


74       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Cristobal  is  of  course  a  town  built  very  much 
in  a  hurry.  The  Government  quarters,  which  line 
its  macadamized  streets,  are  for  the  most  part 
square,  four-family  houses  of  the  type  which  we 
would  call  at  home  "summer  cottages/'  A 
heavy  gray  curtain  of  mosquito  netting  is  hung 
from  the  top  of  the  second-story  veranda  to  the 
ground,  imparting  a  strange,  ghostly  effect  as  the 
tropical  gloom  deepens  and  the  electric  bulbs  of 
the  corners  burst  into  yellow  flame. 

Cristobal  has  a  modern  fire  department,  a 
modern  police  force,  modern  schools,  and  modern 
churches,  all  located  in  buildings  similar  to  the 
summer  cottages  of  the  residents.  Also  in  Cris- 
tobal is  found  the  first  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  buildings 
— ^the  Government  club-houses — ^which  dot  the 
Isthmus  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  and 
where  the  social  life  of  the  jungle  finds  a  lively 
centre. 

To  digest  Colon  and  Cristobal  properly,  it  is 
necessary  first  to  digest  the  Pacific  sweep  of  the 
republic  of  Panama,  and  approach  the  Atlantic 
port  from  the  interior — with  the  activities  of 
jungle  and  Canal  as  a  background  against  which 
the  Isthmian  shiftlessness  and  American  aggres- 
siveness are  given  a  new  significance. 

A  dozen  years  ago.  Colon  was  a  waste  of  yellow 


Colon  and  Beyond  75 

mud,  in  whose  slimy  depths  lurked  the  unchecked 
germs  of  jungle  fever,  slaying  with  equal  impar- 
tiality native  and  foreign.  That  a  city — however 
crude  and  incomplete — ^has  been  erected  from  the 
slime  is  a  feat  deserving  of  underscored  mention 
in  the  story  of  the  world's  civilization-builders. 
And  it  is  a  feat  whose  difhculties  and  possibilities 
cannot  be  measured  until  the  tourist  has  first 
filled  in  the  background  of  the  Canal. 

We  see  few  evidences  at  Colon  of  the  greatest 
artificial  waterway  in  the  world's  history.  If  we 
are  seeking  signs  of  the  progress  of  the  Canal,  we 
will  carry  with  us  the  impression  of  a  blank  slate 
if  we  go  no  farther  than  Colon. 

It  is  with  these  facts  emphasized  in  his  mind 
that  the  average  traveller  shakes  the  Colon  dust 
from  his  feet  at  the  end  of  a  one  day 's  stay  at  the 
Atlantic  port,  and  resigns  himself  to  the  ordeal 
of  the  Panama  Railroad  in  the  bumping  journey 
across  the  Isthmus. 

There  are  seven  trains  daily  from  ocean  to 
ocean  although  only  three  from  Colon.  The 
tourist  may  cross  the  American  continent  in  a 
space  of  from  three  to  four  hours  whether  he 
choose  the  early  morning  train,  that  at  noon,  or 
the  final  schedule  in  the  late  afternoon.  It  is  this 
last  which  we  select,  and  as  our  watches  hover 


76       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

around  the  hour  of  4  p.m.  our  car  rumbles  out 
of  the  Colon  station,  and  we  know  that  with  luck 
we  will  eat  dinner  within  the  sound  of  the  Pacific 
surf. 

We  have  a  ride  of  something  over  three  hours 
ahead,  with  the  heavy  tropical  darkness  on  us 
before  we  reach  the  end,  but  if  we  settle  into  our 
seats  with  a  yawn  we  are  apt  to  be  sharply  aroused. 

A  railroad  journey  across  the  Isthmus  gives 
us  some  rapid-fire  scenic  changes.  We  are  com- 
pressing the  2500  miles  of  the  trans-continental 
journey  of  "the  States"  into  fifty  miles.  Let  me 
sketch  for  you  the  picture  from  our  car  window. 

At  one  side  of  the  train  is  a  station  easily  taken 
for  an  American  suburban  depot,  the  kind  you 
find  in  almost  any  of  the  smaller  towns  at  home. 
At  one  end  is  a  modern  American  news-stand, 
with  the  late  magazines  hanging  over  the  counters 
as  you  see  them  in  the  booths  of  any  of  our  own 
newsdealers.  Up-to-date  trucks  and  baggage 
equipment  are  scattered  about  the  platform. 
It  is  in  fact  a  little  slice  of  home  set  down  here 
in  the  heart  of  the  jungle — and  for  a  moment  we 
forget  that  we  are  in  Panama. 

And  then,  as  we  turn  our  heads  and  glance  out 
of  the  opposite  window,  the  picture  changes  like 
a  lightning  flash.     Bordering  the  track  on  the 


Colon  and  Beyond  77 

other  side  is  a  bright-colored  wall  of  jungle  foliage 
— tall,  arching  ferns — great  coleus  plants,  with 
their  leaves  splashed  with  the  tints  of  the  rainbow 
— ^luxurious  cannas  with  their  red-spiked  flowers — • 
climbing  air-pines  with  their  soft-shaded,  blue 
blossoms — ^wonderful  specimens  of  the  orchid 
family  ready  to  burst  into  bloom  six  weeks  later 
with  their  wealth  of  lavender  and  purple  and  pink 
petals — and  over  all,  the  waving  fronds  of  the 
graceful  palms. 

At  one  side,  a  yellow  stream  cuts  through  the 
foliage,  from  the  bank  of  which  we  can  see  nothing 
but  a  slippery  shelf  of  black  mud.  Squatting  on 
the  shore  and  wading  knee-deep  in  the  current 
are  a  circle  of  bronze-skinned  Panamanian  women 
and  spread  out  before  them  is  the  family  washing. 

Wringers  and  washboards?  They  would  stare 
at  you  in  amazement  and  disgust  if  you  mentioned 
these  articles.  Smooth,  round  stones  take  the 
place  of  the  washboard  as  we  know  it  at  home, 
and  instead  of  our  time-honored  wringer,  rough, 
knotty  paddles  are  being  wielded  vigorously — 
for  the  women  of  Panama  have  a  most  substantial 
muscle! 

With  strong,  sharp  strokes  the  paddles  are 
raised  and  lowered,  sending  the  water  from  the 
soaked  clothes  in  a  little  cloud  as  the  washing 


78       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

is  hammered    and    pummelled   into   a   twisted, 
compact  mass. 

"  Button-breakers, "  they  call  them  in  Panama, 
and  certainly  the  name  is  an  apt  one. 
"  The  bank  is  a  cesspool  of  mud,  the  water  is 
murky  and  discolored  from  the  red  clay,  but  mud 
and  clay  make  no  difference  in  the  plans  of  the 
washerwoman.  And  anyway  a  little  mud  more  or 
less  is  not  regarded  as  a  crime  in  Panama. 

Within  a  hundred  feet  are  the  two  halves  of 
my  picture — civilization  and  savagery,  jungle 
and  clearing,  the  primitive  customs  of  the  black 
man  and  the  modern  progress  of  the  white  man. 

And  such  is  Panama  through  its  whole  length 
and  breadth,  as  I  was  to  find,  the  footprints  of 
Uncle  Sam's  seven-leagued  boots  showing  with 
startling  distinctness  even  where  the  wilderness 
is  the  darkest  and  the  most  forbidding. 

Here  stretch  roughly  cleared  fields  where  a  for- 
lorn looking  horse  is  trying  to  browse,  often  up  to 
its  knees  in  the  soft,  sticky  mud,  so  that  from  the 
train  it  looks  no  larger  than  an  overgrown  dog. 

Over  there  is  a  thatched  bamboo  hut,  half  hidden 
among  the  trees,  with  a  kinky-haired  girl  crushing 
maize  before  the  door,  a  group  of  naked,  staring 
babies  rolling  through  the  coarse  grass,  and  a  stoop- 
shouldered  native  woman,  with  her  hair  bound 


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Colon  and  Beyond  79 

up  in  a  gaudy  handkerchief,  watching  us  from 
the  doorway.  We  see  two  or  three  hairless  Mexi- 
can dogs  yawning  as  the  train  whistle  rouses  them, 
a  great  white  cat  arching  her  back  with  a  green 
lizard  waddling  after  her,  half  a  dozen  grunting, 
ring-tailed  pigs  nosing  in  the  clay,  and  over  in 
the  corner  a  freshly  cut  stack  of  cocoanuts,  and 
here  and  there  the  ashes  of  a  rude,  brick  fireplace 
where  the  scanty  cooking  is  done. 

This  is  the  heart  of  the  jungle — ^where  the  poorer 
Panamanian  dozes  his  life  away. 

At  one  side  of  the  track  is  a  great  mass  of  rusty, 
twisted  railroad  ties  and  weather-beaten,  dilapi- 
dated engines  and  machinery — ^the  relics  of  the 
French  days  at  Panama,  the  last  of  the  old-style 
equipment  with  which  De  Lesseps  was  to  com- 
plete the  waterway  in  record-breaking  time. 
Millions  upon  millions  were  spent  in  the  purchase 
of  these  engines  and  ties  and  shovels  only  for 
them  to  be  cast  away  in  the  jungle  for  the  storms 
to  ruin  and  the  reptiles  to  haunt. 

They  are  useless  now.  Their  only  good  is  the 
object-lesson  they  serve  to  give  in  the  reckless 
extravagancy  which  has  made  France  the  most 
frivolous  and  most  headstrong  nation  in  the 
world — the  dreamer  among  her  hard-headed 
neighbors. 


8o       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

We  are  scarcely  twenty  minutes  out  from  Colon 
when  we  catch  our  first  glimpse  of  the  Canal. 
Away  off  to  the  left,  looms  an  indistinct  mass  of 
men  and  machinery,  half-hidden  behind  a  great 
bank  of  red-clay,  with  the  steam  from  a  puffing 
locomotive  floating  off  into  the  air  above. 

But  it  is  only  a  vague,  fleeting  view.  The  next 
moment,  the  trees  hide  the  scene,  and  we  crane 
our  necks  for  the  next  corner  of  the  "Big  Ditch" 
to  loom  in  sight. 

Now  we  slacken  speed  as  we  approach  a 
winding  switch,  branching  off  into  the  jungle. 
Lurching  down  the  rails,  comes  our  first  *'dirt 
train,"  an  engine  and  eight  swaying  freight 
cars — "gondolas,"  a  railroad  man  would  say, 
great  open  cars  with  no  roofs  and  little  sides — 
loaded  to  overflowing  with  the  red-hued  clay  of 
the  Canal,  with  here  and  there  a  sharp,  jagged 
boulder  showing  where  the  dynamite  has  gotten 
in  its  work. 

Later  we  are  told  that  these  tons  of  dirt  disap- 
pear almost  as  rapidly  as  they  are  excavated,  in 
the  building  of  the  great  dams  and  locks  of  the 
waterway,  and  the  filling  of  the  slimy  stretches 
of  swamp  lands — ^where,  before  the  Americans 
came,  mosquitoes  by  the  thousands  were  bred 
almost  in  a  night. 


Colon  and  Beyond  8i 

But  we  are  nearing  the  city  of  Panama,  and 
the  end  of  our  trip  across  the  Isthmus. 

With  a  lurch,  the  train  rolls  into  the  Panama 
station,  and  we  stumble  toward  the  door  with  our 
baggage.  Our  first  glance  is  enough  to  show  that 
Panama  differs  decidedly  from  its  sister  city  of 
Colon.  From  the  moment  we  emerge  onto  the 
platform  and  wend  our  way  through  the  depot, 
which  is  beginning  to  put  on  metropolitan  airs, 
we  are  sharply  aware  of  this  fact. 

At  the  outer  edge  of  the  station,  the  jangling 
Panamanian  cabs  are  backed  onto  the  walk  so 
closely  that  you  take  your  life  in  your  hands  when 
you  thread  your  path  among  the  wheels  and  clam- 
ber into  a  seat.  But  you  accomplish  the  feat  at 
last,  the  driver  clangs  his  big  bell,  the  horse  jerks 
forward,  and  you  are  driven  over  the  dusty  pave- 
ment and  up  the  broad,  winding  hill  beyond,  which 
leads  to  the  American  section  of  Panama,  Ancon, 
and  the  beautiful  Government  hotel,  the  Tivoli. 

It  was  here  that  I  found  Secretary  Bishop  of 
the  Canal  Commission,  and  a  cheery  smile  of 
greeting  flashed  over  his  face  when  he  read  my 
letter  of  introduction  from  President  Roosevelt. 

It  was  a  smile  that  promised  a  hearty  reception 
and  I  at  once  began  to  picture  a  lively  round  of 
sightseeing.     Nor  was  I  mistaken. 


82       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

*'The  most  wonderful  feature  of  the  Canal  is 
of  course  Culebra  Cut,"  said  Secretary  Bishop. 
*'How  would  you  like  to  go  through  it,  in  our 
motor  car? 

**Is  half -past  five  to-morrow  morning  too  early 
for  you?"  he  continued.  "If  possible,  I  would 
prefer  you  to  take  the  first  train  to  Culebra,  where 
the  car  will  meet  you." 

The  Panamanian  motor  car  is  operated  on  the 
track  of  the  railroad  and  is  quite  capable  of  reach- 
ing a  speed  of — well,  I  was  to  find  that  we  could 
tear  down  the  line  at  nearly  a  mile  a  minute !  But 
the  bulk  of  its  travelling  must  be  done  in  the  early 
morning  before  the  dirt  trains,  with  their  tons  of 
clay,  monopolize  the  road. 

"All  right,  sir,  I  'II  be  on  hand,"  I  replied  to 
the  question — and  I  was. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THROUGH  CULEBRA  CUT — ON  A  MOTOR  CAR 

THE  cheery  beams  of  the  tropical  sun  were 
already  streaming  into  my  room  at  the 
Tivoli  when  the  jangle  of  the  alarm-clock  aroused 
me.  The  sun  and  the  Americans  are  early  risers 
in  Panama,  I  was  to  discover.  It  is  during  the 
morning  that  by  far  the  greater  share  of  the  work 
is  done  on  the  Isthmus. 

From  Panama  to  Culebra  is  a  distance  of  nearly 
twelve  miles.  The  Panama  Railroad  does  not 
endeavor  to  cope  with  the  speed  of  the  trains  at 
home,  and  it  was  three  quarters  of  an  hour  after 
our  start  before  I  alighted  at  the  Culebra  station. 

As  I  glanced  uncertainly  around  me,  a  young 
man  with  a  cheery  voice  hailed  me  from  the  edge 
of  the  platform. 

"I  am  Major  Gaillard's  secretary,"  he  an- 
nounced. ' '  If  you  will  come  with  me,  1 11  take 
you  over  to  the  car. "  Major  Gaillard  is  the  divi- 
sion engineer,  in  charge  of  the  Culebra  section 
of  the  Canal. 

83 


84      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

It  was  in  a  cubby-hole  of  a  garage,  bordering 
the  Hne  of  rails,  that  we  found  the  motor.  Peter- 
son, chauffeur,  machinist,  and  all-around  man  of 
information,  was  awaiting  us  with  a  broad  grin 
of  welcome. 

"Ready?"  I  asked. 

''In  two  minutes,"  he  replied.  "Here,  Jim!" 
he  called  sharply,  and  his  black  boy  sprang  to  his 
side. 

"Turn-table!"  continued  Peterson  briefly.  In 
a  moment  a  series  of  cleverly  grooved  planks  were 
joined  together  in  front  of  the  motor,  and  the  car 
was  run  onto  a  neatly  revolving  wooden  track. 
As  smoothly  as  clock-work,  it  swung  around  and 
the  motor  was  gently  deposited  on  the  railroad, 
ready  to  spring  forward  at  the  touch  of  a  lever. 

"All  in?"  called  Peterson  curtly  over  his 
shoulder.  Bending  forward,  he  switched  the 
starting  gear  into  place,  the  car  darted  swiftly 
down  the  rails,  and  we  were  off. 

We  swung  past  the  Culebra  station,  every  mo- 
ment adding  to  our  speed.  The  morning  air  was 
whipping  our  faces  with  a  pleasant,  invigorating 
thrill,  and  the  spirit  of  the  swift  dash  was  begin- 
ning to  take  firm  hold  of  us. 

Peterson  slackened  his  pace  as  we  neared  the 
switch  beyond  and  hurriedly  crossed  his  hands 


Through  Culebra  Cut  85 

out  over  the  side  of  the  car — the  silent  signal  to 
the  workmen  ahead  that  he  wished  to  change 
into  the  adjoining  line.  On  his  side  Jim  was 
duplicating  the  action,  which  was  soon  to  grow 
familiar  to  us. 

It  was  at  Whitehouse,  a  small  dot  of  a  station 
between  Culebra  and  the  neighboring  point  of 
Empire,  that  we  again  swerved  our  course,  and 
Peterson  cried,  ''We  are  entering  the  big  Cut 
now.    Keep  your  eyes  open,  Jim!" 

The  need  of  the  warning  was  soon  apparent. 
Within  the  space  of  the  next  eight  miles  over  one 
hundred  locomotives  were  backing  and  switching, 
often  barely  grazing  each  other  as  they  darted 
to  and  fro  in  the  swirling  mist  of  their  own  steam. 
A  collision  might  come  at  any  moment  even 
with  the  experienced  hand  of  Peterson  guiding 
us. 

Attached  to  scores  of  the  engines  were  long 
rows  of  dirt  cars,  partially  filled,  every  moment 
adding  to  their  great  loads  of  clay  and  rocks. 

''There  are  more  men  killed  on  the  Panama 
Railroad  dodging  dirt  trains  than  from  any  other 
cause, "  Peterson  grimly  informed  us.  Which  was 
pleasant  intelligence,  as  we  darted  down  past  the 
bumping  rows  of  swaying  cars  and  they  darted 
down  past  us,  the  motor  and  the  trains  really 


86       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

playing  an  exciting  game  of  *' hide-and-seek'* 
or  ''prisoner's  base." 

The  towering  walls  of  Culebra  Cut  were  now 
rising  above  us,  their  great,  rugged  faces  seeming 
to  scowl  in  baffled  rage  at  the  army  of  sweating 
men  below,  who  day  by  day  were  ploughing  deeper 
and  farther  into  their  sides. 

For  centuries  these  great,  swollen  mountains 
had  defied  the  assaults  of  men,  laughing  at  the 
efforts  to  bore  a  passage  through  their  rocky 
ridges.  And  now  the  men,  in  their  turn,  were 
laughing  at  the  efforts  of  the  bullying  mountains 
to  check  their  advance. 

Have  you  ever  studied  the  picture  of  a  noted 
battle-field?  Do  you  recall  the  thick  clouds  of 
smoke,  the  spurting  cannon,  the  stacks  of  rifles, 
the  heaps  of  dead  and  wounded  men? 

Change  the  field  of  battle  to  Culebra  Cut.  You 
will  see  the  same  thick,  black  clouds  of  smoke. 
Instead  of  the  belching  cannon,  you  will  find  a 
hundred  times  more  deadly  instrument  in  the 
giant  dynamite  blasts.  The  monster  steam  shov- 
els, the  great  levellers  and  air-drillers  are  the 
weapons  of  warfare,  and  the  opposing  forces  are 
the  armies  of  man  and  Nature.  It  is  not  one  battle, 
but  a  series  of  daily  battles,  and  they  are  all  to 
the  death. 


nt 


Through  Culebra  Cut  87 

Hundreds  of  men,  thousands  of  men  are  before 
and  behind  and  around  us — black  men,  white 
men,  yellow  men,  red  men — men  with  their  coats 
and  shirts  and  collars  off,  with  grimy  hands  and 
perspiring  faces  and  straining  shoulders — men 
to  whom  a  dozen  different  languages  might  be 
addressed  without  finding  their  native  tongues. 

Over  all  tower  the  great,  scowling  cliffs,  before 
you  is  the  constant  swirl  of  brown  smoke,  and 
on  every  side  the  screech  of  shrill  locomotive 
whistles,  the  hoarse  shouts  of  toiling  men,  the 
grinding  crunch  of  the  steam  shovels. 

Peterson  turned  suddenly  as  we  worked  our 
way  in  between  the  overhanging  cliff  walls — 
our  speed  was  now  little  more  than  a  bare,  zig- 
zagging crawl — ^and  cried  crisply,  "We're  coming 
to  one  of  the  largest  steam  shovels  on  the  Isthmus. 
Do  you  want  to  stop?" 

In  answer  to  my  nod,  the  motor  paused  and  I 
sprang  out  onto  the  ground,  at  close  quarters 
with  my  first  steam  shovel. 

If  you  can  imagine  pounds  magnified  to  tons 
and  can  conceive  of  a  monster  iron  scoop  that  can 
handle  these  tons  as  easily  as  you  can  han- 
dle an  ordinary  baseball,  if  you  can  picture 
such  a  gigantic  machine  so  cleverly  constructed 
that  it  is  possible  for  one  man  to  swing  the  great 


88       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

dipper  where  and  when  he  pleases,  you  will  have 
a  dim  framework  of  the  American  steam  shovel 
as  it  is  operating  at  the  ''Big  Ditch."  Can  you 
go  a  step  farther  and  imagine  the  man  placed  in 
such  a  position  that  he  is  hidden  from  view,  the 
monster  scoop  seeming  to  work  of  its  own  accord — 
a  great,  rough  creature  of  iron  and  steel  suddenly 
given  the  power  of  life? 

If  you  can,  you  will  have  an  even  better  idea 
of  what  the  steam  shovel  really  is. 

I  clamored  across  onto  the  half -filled  dirt  train 
beside  the  motor  that  I  might  get  a  closer  view. 
As  I  did  so,  the  iron  dipper  struck  a  mammoth 
boulder  half  buried  in  the  red  clay  below. 

Deeper  and  deeper,  its  four  iron  teeth  worked 
their  way  into  the  sticky  mud  at  the  base  of  the 
great  stone.  The  boulder  suddenly  leaned  over 
under  the  weight  of  the  scoop  and  then,  as  I  gasped, 
it  was  lifted  bodily  from  the  ground — wedged 
tightly  between  the  gaping  iron  jaws.  The  shovel 
gave  a  terrific  upward  jerk,  and  almost  before 
I  realized  it,  the  huge  stone  was  being  suspended 
in  the  air  above  my  head. 

''Jump!"  shouted  Peterson  from  the  motor. 
"Great  Scot,  man,  that  boulder  weighs  twenty 
tons!" 

I    did  n't    wait    for    additional    explanation. 


Through  Culebra  Cut  89 

With  the  most  rapid  side  step  I  think  I  have  ever 
made,  I  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  none  too  soon. 

The  next  moment  the  flap  of  the  dipper  opened, 
and  the  boulder  dropped  into  the  flat-car  with 
a  dull  thud. 

But  it  didn't  stay.  Hardly  had  it  settled  on 
the  clay  when  it  turned  on  its  side,  rolling  ponder- 
ously toward  the  ground. 

The  steam  shovel  was  n't  idle,  however.  With 
a  slow  awkward  movement  it  again  swung  around, 
its  iron  edge  striking  the  rock  with  a  force  that 
carromed  it  sharply  over  in  the  other  direction. 
And  then,  as  though  the  boulder  were  suddenly 
fired  with  electric  energy,  it  plunged  off  toward 
the  opposite  end  of  the  car,  every  instant 
gathering  new  force.  Again  the  steam  shovel 
worked  around,  and  this  time  with  a  resounding 
jar  dealt  the  giant  slab  of  granite  another 
blow. 

The  boulder's  course  was  abruptly  checked, 
but  only  momentarily .  A  third  time  it  commenced 
to  roll,  plunging  toward  the  ground  with  even 
greater  velocity  than  before. 

It  was  a  thrilling  crisis  for  the  layman. 

With  a  jerk  as  though  it  had  gathered  all  of  its 
energies  for  a  final  spurt,  the  great  shovel  pivoted 
about,  hesitated  as  if  measuring  the  most  effective 


90       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

spot  at  which  to  strike,  and  literally  grappled  with 
its  granite  opponent. 

The  boulder's  massive  strength  drew  a  ringing 
crash  from  the  iron  dipper,  but  it  had  brought 
up  against  an  obstacle  it  could  not  move.  It  was 
vanquished.  Slowly  the  steam  shovel  withdrew, 
hovering  in  the  neighborhood  a  moment,  ready 
for  another  attack.  But  the  stone  was  firmly 
lodged  this  time.  The  dipper  had  done  its  work 
well. 

*'How  many  miles  of  track  would  you  guess 
have  been  laid  on  the  Isthmus?"  queried  Peter- 
son as  our  car  threaded  its  way  beyond  a  more 
than  usually  active  row  of  dirt  trains. 

*' Possibly  a  hundred,"  I  suggested. 

He  laughed  as  he  shook  his  head. 

**You  will  have  to  multiply  that  number  by 
four — and  then  add  some,"  he  rejoined.  ** There 
are  448  miles  of  rails  in  Panama — ^in  a  distance 
of  just  forty-seven  miles.  In  other  words,  we 
often  have  twelve  and  fifteen  tracks  in  a  row. 
There  are  fully  this  many  before  us  now. " 

During  a  lull  in  the  activity  around  me,  I  glanced 
at  the  cliff  above.  Its  scarred,  jagged  surface 
showed  nearly  every  color  of  the  rainbow.  Here 
was  a  surface  of  gray,  there  a  bright  scarlet  hue, 
yonder  a  line  of  tan,  to  the  left  a  dark  slate  color, 


Through  Culebra  Cut  91 

below  a  flaring  yellow — ^the  blending  outlines  of 
the  different  strata  of  dirt  uncovered  in  the  ever- 
deepening  excavations. 

''There  is  the  famous  Gold  Hill  to  our  left," 
explained  Peterson. 

''Gold  Hill?"    I  repeated. 

"The  point  from  which  Balboa  discovered  the 
Pacific,"  the  chauffeur  added.  "The  ocean  is 
twelve  miles  from  here,"  he  continued.  "You 
can  see  it  easily  on  a  clear  day — but  I  would  n  't 
care  to  have  had  Balboa's  trip  to  reach  it,  eh?" 

I  wondered  curiously  what  the  explorer's  feel- 
ings would  have  been  could  he  have  pictured  the 
present  scene  in  Culebra  Cut.  Assuredly  he  would 
have  termed  the  steam  shovel  a  fabled  giant  lurk- 
ing in  the  Panama  wilderness  like  the  dragons 
of  old. 

It  was  easy  to  see  now  that  we  were  approaching 
the  end  of  the  great  Cut.  The  cliffs  had  broken 
off  sharply,  and  the  number  of  workmen  had 
abruptly  lessened.  Peterson  brought  the  car  to 
a  sudden  halt,  the  turn-table  was  again  brought 
into  play,  and  we  were  switched  off  at  right  angles 
to  begin  our  circling  way  back  to  Culebra  through 
the  dark  undergrowth  of  the  jungle. 

Faster  and  faster  grows  our  speed.  Now  the 
wheels  seem  fairly  to  be  burning  into  the  rails,  and 


92       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

we  tear  through  the  heart  of  the  wilderness  at  a 
speed  that  is  eating  up  forty-five  miles  an  hour! 
There  is  a  clear  track  ahead,  our  white  flags  are 
held  stiff  against  the  breeze,  and  for  the  moment 
the  thrill  of  the  wild  dash  is  our  only  sensation. 

At  our  side  the  trees  shoot  by  like  a  solid  wall — 
we  catch  a  confused  glimpse  of  an  occasional 
monkey  chattering  impudently  at  us,  the  sweep 
of  a  bright-plumaged  bird,  and  the  flash  of  a 
flower,  but  we  have  no  time  for  details.  We 
almost  feel  that  we  are  devouring  space. 

It  is  barely  half-past  ten,  and  we  are  scheduled 
to  board  the  10.45  train  for  the  Gatun  Dam,  thirty 
miles  down  the  line.  This  thought  is  in  Peterson 's 
mind,  as  he  jerks  out: 

*  *  We  '11  make  it  nicely ! ' '    And  we  did. 


CHAPTER  VII 


SCORPIONS,    TARANTULAS,  AND  THE  **T.  T.  S 


>» 


WE  had  just  time  to  shake  hands  before  Peter- 
son turned  the  speed  lever  and  darted 
back  down  the  switch  to  the  garage. 

It  was  nearing  one  o'clock  when  our  train  pulled 
into  the  Gatun  Station,  and  we  descended  to  the 
platform.  A  negro  driver  was  awaiting  us  in  the 
big  Government  wagon,  and  he  cracked  his  whip 
merrily  and  urged  his  mules  into  a  lively  gait 
as  we  clambered  inside. 

We  reached  the  Government  hotel  in  time  for 
luncheon  and  the  warm  greeting  of  O.  T.  Mar- 
strand,  the  genial  assistant  supervisor  of  *' Labor 
and  Quarters, "  who  had  been  assigned  to  meet  us. 

In  the  rain  we  set  off  to  see  Gatun,  a  compact 
little  toy  village  perched  on  the  side  of  a  steep  clay 
hill.  Through  the  mess  kitchens  and  sleeping 
quarters  of  the  white  and  black  workmen  we  made 
our  way — spick-and-span  buildings  where  a  stray 

93 


94       The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

thread  or  clot  of  dust,  catching  the  keen  eye  of 
the  inspector,  would  cause  as  severe  a  rebuke  as 
in  the  regular  army  itself. 

It  was  in  the  mess  kitchen  of  the  white,  or 
■''European  laborers"  as  they  are  officially 
termed,  that  we  recorded  a  startling  incident  not 
on  our  programme. 

The  supervisor,  W.  T.  Virtue,  had  been  explain- 
ing to  us,  in  his  brisk,  businesslike  way,  the  de- 
tails of  his  interesting  department  when  he  reached 
over  his  desk  and  held  up  to  view  an  empty  lye  can. 

''Here  is  an  unique  curiosity,"  he  smiled  as  I 
took  the  can  gingerly. 

I  thrust  back  the  cover,  holding  it  in  my  left 
hand  as  I  peered  within.  At  the  bottom  crouched 
a  shining  black  spider — as  I  fancied  at  first,  except 
that  it  was  three  times  as  large  as  any  spider  I 
had  ever  met  before. 

"What  is  it?"  I  queried,  as  I  continued  to 
gaze  at  the  strange  object  with  a  curious  fascina- 
tion even  while  some  vague  instinct  sent  a  shiver 
of  repulsion  through  me. 

Mr.  Virtue  in  answer  thrust  a  long,  slender 
stick  into  the  can. 

Instantly  the  spider  sprang  into  motion.  A 
bead-like  tail  darted  toward  the  stick  with 
lightning  speed. 


CO 


Tarantulas  and  the  ''T.  T.'S  "       95 

**We  have  a  genuine  specimen  of  the  deadly 
black  scorpion  before  us,"  announced  Mr.  Virtue 
quietly.  "Its  sting  is  certain  death!  There  is 
absolutely  no  antidote.  If  your  finger  had  been 
that  stick " 

At  that  instant,  the  crouching  scorpion  leaped 
toward  the  top  of  the  can,  its  tail  distended, 
its  body  a-quiver. 

With  a  gasp  I  dropped  the  receptacle  on- 
to the  table,  snatching  my  hand  away  just  as 
the  spider  struck  at  the  spot  where  it  had 
rested. 

I  had  been  within  three  inches  of  death! 

In  spite  of  the  dense  humidity  and  the  fact  that 
a  moment  before  I  had  been  perspiring,  I  suddenly 
felt  a  cold  chill. 

*'A  close  shave,"  muttered  Mr.  Virtue  as  he 
clapped  the  cover  shut.  "Almost  as  narrow  an 
escape  as  you  could  experience  from  our  friend 
over  here." 

As  he  spoke,  he  extended  another  can,  and, 
deftly  throwing  back  the  lid,  revealed  a  furry, 
black-gray  creature  within,  apparently  devoid 
of  the  power  of  motion. 

But  as  he  thrust  his  stick  toward  it,  we  saw 
a  startling  change.  With  a  rapidity  rivalling  that 
of  the  scorpion,  the  occupant  snapped  outward 


96      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

and  upward,  its  ugly  little  body  working  con- 
vulsively. 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  the  tarantula,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Virtue;  "you  will  find  him  almost  as 
ugly  a  customer  as  the  scorpion.  There  is  just 
a  possibility  of  saving  the  life  of  its  victim.,  if 
prompt  measures  are  used.  In  the  case  of  the 
scorpion,  however,  there  is  no  hope.  The  person 
who  feels  its  bite  is  doomed." 

It  was  on  our  return  route  to  Panama,  while 
the  lurching  train  of  the  Isthmus  Railroad  ran 
a  race  with  the  setting  sun,  that  we  met  a  quartet 
of  the  sun-browned  men  of  the  jungle  whom  the 
vocabulary  of  the  tropics  calls  "T.  T's." 

Real  "soldiers  of  fortune,"  with  an  emphasis, 
are  these  big-hearted  men  of  the  great  out-of- 
doors,  whose  cheeks  are  tanned  by  the  four  winds, 
whose  shoulders  are  broadened  and  muscles 
hardened  by  long  toil  in  the  forests  and  mountains. 

These  are  the  men  who  prefer  a  tent  to  a  house, 
who  have  built  the  wonderful  railroads  of  the 
jungles,  who  have  constructed  bridges  in  coun- 
tries that  have  yet  to  know  a  railroad,  who  have 
located  the  rich  gold  and  silver  mines  of  the  earth 
that  are  making  new  millionaires  each  year — 
the  men  who  because  they  have  drifted  from  one 
end  of  the  wilderness  to  the  other  are  dubbed  in 


Tarantulas  and  the  *'T.  T.'s"       97 

the  language  of  Panama  "T.  T's, "  or  Tropical 
Tramps. 

There  are  scores  of  these  men  at  the  Canal 
whose  varied  experience  is  tested  to  the  utmost 
in  the  problems  of  excavating  and  transporting 
the  millions  of  cubic  yards  of  dirt  and  clay  from 
the  great  waterway  and  the  handling  of  the 
steam  shovels  and  dynamite  that  are  tearing  their 
way  through  rock  and  jungle.    . 

Our  friends  of  the  'T.  T.'s"  are  already  be- 
ginning a  lively  chat,  as  one  divests  himself  of 
his  khaki  coat,  and  they  settle  into  more  com- 
fortable positions  for  the  trip.  There  are  four 
of  them — ^Turner,  the  civil  engineer,  who  has 
passed  the  last  four  years  in  the  wilds  of  old 
Mexico — Bradley,  railroad  construction  boss, 
who  has  the  reputation  of  getting  more  work 
from  the  lazy  Jamaican  negroes  than  any  other 
man  in  the  tropics — ^White,  mining  engineer, 
who  has  visions  of  the  future  gold  mines  of  Co- 
lombia— ^and  slow-speaking  Endicott,  who  has 
been  into  and  out  of  more  scrapes  in  the  Central 
American  jungle  than  you  could  tell  about  in  a 
large-sized  book.  As  their  big  brown  hands 
close  over  yours,  and  their  eyes  light  up  with 
that  electric  smile  which  is  bred  in  men  who 
have  lived  long  on  the  outskirts  of    civilization 


98      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

and  the  borders  of  nowhere,  you  know  that  they 
are  glad  to  meet  you.  Just  the  sort  of  companions 
you  would  choose  for  this  trip  across  the  Isthmus, 
eh? 

.  * '  I  imagine  you  have  some  thrilling  adventures 
with  dynamite  down  here,"  I  suggested  as  the 
conversation  lagged. 

White  half  closed  his  eyes. 

''Dynamite  is  the  most  dangerous  plaything 
that  man  ever  handled,"  he  responded,  ''and 
yet  when  a  chap  carries  a  fifty-pound  case  around 
with  him  every  day  for  a  year  or  two,  he  somehow 
forgets  that  Death  is  grinning  at  him  over  his 
shoulder. 

"I  remember  an  incident  of  a  few  months  ago. 
We  were  standing  on  the  edge  of  Culebra  Cut 
watching  the  steam  shovels  below  us.  A  short 
distance  off,  a  gang  of  workmen  were  getting 
ready  to  discharge  a  blast.  The  alarm  was  given 
as  the  fuse  was  lighted,  and  those  who  happened 
to  be  in  the  neighborhood  suddenly  remembered 
an  engagement  elsewhere. 

' '  You  know  the  sort  of  silence  that  falls  around 
you  when  something  big  is  about  to  happen? 
Well,  for  a  minute  you  could  feel  the  stillness. 

"And  then  right  under  us  there  came  a 
lounging    West    Indian  negro    down  the    track. 


Tarantulas  and  the  ''T.  T/s"       99 

carrying  a  big  case  of  dynamite  over  his  shoulder, 
shuffling  along  with  his  head  down.  Somebody 
shouted  at  him,  but  he  did  n't  glance  up.  Farther 
and  farther  down  the  ties  he  kept  on,  every  step 
bringing  him  nearer  to  the  sputtering  fuse. 

"Suddenly  he  stopped  and  drew  out  a  bright 
red  handkerchief.  As  he  wiped  his  perspiring 
forehead,  he  coolly  deposited  the  powder  case 
on  the  ground  and  sat  himself  down  on  it — 
less  than  sixty  feet  from  the  blast ! 

"In  another  moment  the  deadly  powder  would 
be  reached  by  the  creeping  flame,  there  would  be 
a  deafening  roar,  and  then — Great  Scot!  What 
would  happen  to  the  men  in  the  neighborhood 
if  the  negro's  dynamite  case  should  explode? 
Somebody  gave  a  husky  shout,  but  it  was  too 
late. 

"From  the  side  of  the  Cut  came  a  crash  as  of  a 
dozen  cannon,  there  was  a  great  swirl  of  rising 
smoke,  a  scattered  shower  of  granite  and  dirt — 
and  then  we  saw  a  jagged  rock  hurtling  through 
the  air  directly  toward  the  man  below  us.  Whether 
he,  too,  saw  it  or  not,  we  never  knew. 

'*  As  straight  as  from  a  rifle,  the  boulder  crashed 
down  upon  his  skull,  his  bandanna  dropped  from 
his  nerveless  hand,  and  he  sank  limply  onto  the 
ground,  dead.    There  beside  him  was  the  case  of 


loo     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

dynamite  untouched.  The  rock  had  been  swerved 
aside  by  the  human  head  and  had  just  grazed  the 
box  with  its  deadly  contents.  Another  inch  to 
the  right  or  left,  and  no  power  on  earth  could 
have  averted  an  explosion  which  might  have 
claimed  dozens  of  victims!" 

For  a  moment  we  were  silent.  Bradley  was 
the  next  to  speak. 

''About  as  near  a  squeak,  that,  as  an  incident 
I  remember,"  he  said,  reflectively.  "One  day 
I  was  standing  near  a  blast  which  happened  to  be 
unusually  powerful.  With  the  explosion  a  perfect 
shower  of  rocks  of  all  sizes  was  blown  from  the 
earth.  Two  or  three  of  us  were  cut  by  stones, 
and  when  we  shook  ourselves  out  of  the  trance 
and  looked  around,  we  saw  that  the  roof  of  the 
railroad  dynamite  station  at  our  side  had  been 
smashed  in  by  a  great  boulder.  It  had  crashed 
from  the  rafters  to  the  ground  below — and  was 
lying  wedged  in  between  three  cases  of  powder, 
without  having  exploded  any  of  them!  Around 
it  were  stacked  a  thousand  pounds  of  dynamite. 
A  shade  more  force,  another  inch  or  a  fraction  of 
an  inch  difference  in  its  fall,  and  we  would  never 
have  known  the  power  that  struck  us! " 

Endicott,  over  by  the  window,  aroused  himself. 

"Something  like  the  escape  I  had,"  he  told 


Tarantulas  and  the  '*T.  T.'s"      loi 

us.  "We  were  sitting  around  the  dinner  table, 
without  a  thought  of  anything  out  of  the  ordinary 
happening, — in  fact,  an  unusually  quiet  meal. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  deafening  explosion. 

'"A  big  blast,  that!'  I  said,  carelessly,  and 
went  on  with  my  eating.  The  next  instant  there 
was  a  jar  above  us  as  of  an  avalanche  and  as  I 
pushed  back  my  chair  the  table  before  me  was 
buried  under  a  great,  muddy  boulder!  Through 
the  roof  was  the  round,  jagged  hole  where  it  had 
entered,  and  before  me  was  the  wreck  of  the 
dinner,  a  vivid  indication  of  the  narrow  escape  I 
had  just  experienced.  If  I  had  not  instinctively 
ducked,  I  would  have  been  lying  under  the 
splintered  table,  dead  or  dying. 

''The  rock,  we  found  later,  had  been  blown  a 
distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  by  the  blast  which 
had  dislodged  it  from  the  red  clay,  where  it  had 
probably  reposed  for  centuries." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  DAY  WITH  THE  PANAMA  ALLIGATORS 
"TJIST!" 

'■'  -^  Captain  Shanton  bent  forward  eagerly 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  darted  a  quick,  sharp 
glance  toward  the  river  bank. 

I  strained  my  eyes  in  the  same  direction  in  vain. 
In  the  silence  of  the  waving  cocoanut  palms  and 
tangled  underbrush  I  could  make  out  nothing. 

''Back,  men,  back!" 

The  Captain's  crisp  order  broke  the  stillness 
abruptly.  The  Indians  tugged  vigorously  at  the 
oars — ^the  boat  quivered,  and  then  slowly  receded. 
The  next  instant  Shanton 's  rifle  was  at  his 
shoulder. 

"Quick,  to  your  right!"  he  whispered,  as  I 
followed  the  direction  of  his  musket.    "There!" 

"Why,  that's  only  a  dead  log!"  I  cried  in 
disappointment.    "Surely  you " 

The  heavy  report  of  the  Captain 's  gun  drowned 
my  words.  Again  it  rang  out,  and  then  a  strange 
thing  happened. 

102 


A  Day  with  the  Panama  Alligators  103 

The  drifting  log  ahead  of  us  sprang  Hterally 
out  of  the  water!  In  that  instant,  I  saw  a  cruel, 
yellowish-brown  mouth  at  its  end  snap  savagely 
open.  I  had  seen  my  first  alligator — at 
home. 

Even  as  the  thought  flashed  through  my  mind, 
I  had  jerked  my  Marlin  to  my  shoulder  and  fol- 
lowed the  Captain's  fire.  My  first  bullet  struck 
the  water  at  the  side.  At  my  next,  the  'gator 
sank  like  a  stone  beneath  the  yellow  waves. 

' '  Good !  you  winged  him  that  time ! ' '  shouted 
Shanton  exultingly .  "  But  we  '11  soon  find  a  dozen 
others  to  take  his  place.  We're  going  into  the 
biggest  'gators'  pool  in  all  Panama  in  the  next 
half-hour.  Here,  men,  send  the  boat  along. 
Straight  ahead,  around  the  bend  there." 

I  thrust  the  eighth  load  home  in  my  repeater 
as  Shanton  paused. 

"That's  right,"  he  nodded 5  ''you'll  need 
'em  all,  and  need  'em  badly  before  we're  through. 
An  alligator  's  an  ugly  customer  when  your  lead 
strikes  him  in  the  wrong  spot. " 

Of  a  sudden  the  boat  shot  around  the  bend,  and 
the  stream  abruptly  narrowed.  The  brush  on  the 
banks  deepened  and  the  trees  in  places  seemed 
almost  joined  together.  Even  the  sunlight  seemed 
less  cheery. 


I04     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Deeper  and  deeper  we  were  rowing  into  the 
heart  of  the  jungle.  Did  the  gloom  mean  that 
we  were  nearing  the  alligators '  pool  ? 

Shanton  turned  in  his  seat  and  called  back 
over  his  shoulder : 

''I  say,  cut  one  of  those  cocoanuts  for  me. 
My  throat's  as  dry  as  a  cinder! " 

We  were  beginning  to  feel  the  full  extent  of 
the  humidity.  The  perspiration  was  trickling 
down  the  faces  of  the  Indians  in  streams.  I  was 
suddenly  conscious  of  a  biting  thirst  myself,  as 
a  boatman  reached  toward  the  big  stack  of  green 
nuts  in  the  corner  which  we  had  taken  on  at  a 
lonely  bamboo  hut  nestling  under  the  shadow 
of  a  palm  tree  at  the  Picara  's  mouth. 

Have  you  ever  tasted  cocoanut  milk?  Not 
the  thin,  white  fluid  you  find  in  the  nuts  of  the 
Northern  market,  but  the  sweet,  refreshing  milk 
bubbling  from  the  great  husks  as  they  are  cut 
from  the  nodding  palms  of  the  tropics.  If  you 
have  n  't — well  you  have  yet  to  partake  of  Nature's 
most  delicious  beverage! 

The  Indian's  machete  rose  and  fell  in  quick, 
sharp  flashes  and  the  heads  of  the  two  nuts  he  was 
holding  on  the  boat's  side  were  shaven  cleanly 
off.  A  series  of  jerky  gashes  in  the  centre  of 
each,  and  he  held  them  over  to  us — ''plugged," 


A  Day  with  the  Panama  Alligators  105 

as  the  boys  would  say  of  a  watermelon  that  had 
just  been  cut. 

Inside  we  could  see  the  cool,  white  milk,  the 
husk  forming  a  natural  drinking  gourd  filled  to 
the  brim. 

To  drink  from  a  cocoanut,  while  standing 
erect  in  a  rocking  boat,  is  an  art  requiring  both 
skill  and  patience.  I  learned  it — in  time,  and  at 
the  cost  of  a  goodly  portion  of  the  fluid  splashing 
over  the  surrounding  neighborhood. 

But  our  refreshments  were  to  receive  a  startling 
interruption.  A  hoarse,  guttural  exclamation 
from  the  leader  of  our  crew  sounded  behind 
us. 

''Ahead,  cap-i-tan,  ahead!'*  cried  the  man, 
pulHng  in  his  oar.  "  'Gators,  one,  two,  three  of 
them!" 

As  we  grasped  our  rifles,  a  second  cry  from 
behind  caused  us  to  look  back. 

Two  more  brown  snouts  had  bobbed  up  at  our 
rear.  We  had  reached  the  alligators'  pool — 
with  a  vengeance! 

Bang!    Bang! 

The  two  reports  of  Shanton's  gun  were  so 
close  together  as  to  seem  almost  the  same  explo- 
sion. The  three  yellowish-gray  heads  before  us 
were  abruptly  lessened  by  one.    Those  remaining 


io6     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

were  churning  the  water  in  their  flight  to  the 
opposite  bank. 

Shanton  's  gun  was  working  again.  Behind  us 
the  other  members  of  the  party  had  opened  a 
brisk  fire  on  the  alHgators  at  the  rear.  A  perfect 
fusillade  of  shots  was  ringing  through  the  jungle. 
In  a  flash  the  stream  seemed  literally  alive  with 
the  zigzagging  animals.  To  the  right,  left,  before 
and  behind  us,  the  wooden-like  snouts  dotted  the 
river  like  a  raft  of  logs  torn  apart  in  a  spring 
freshet.  We  were  in  the  heart  of  alligator-land 
in  very  truth! 

As  my  eyes  veered  to  the  opposite  bank,  I  caught 
a  sudden  splash  in  the  water  under  a  heavy  screen 
of  bushes.  A  long,  brown  head  plunged  out 
from  the  concealment,  so  near  that  I  could  see 
the  dull,  fishy  eyes.  At  its  side  a  second  head 
issued  into  the  sunlight,  the  slimy  snout  half- 
buried  in  the  waves. 

With  a  cry  to  Shanton,  I  sent  my  four  remain- 
ing shots  at  the  pair  without  lowering  my  gun. 
Before  I  fired  the  third,  Shanton  had  joined  me, 
the  bullets  tearing  into  the  river  and  bushes  in 
a  veritable  hail. 

And  then  as  abruptly  as  they  had  appeared — 
much  as  if  a  sudden  signal  of  retreat  had  been 
sounded — bhe    alligators    vanished.      Almost    in 


A  Day  with  the  Panama  AlHgators  107 

a  breath,  the  surface  of  the  stream  was  freed  of 
its  savage  occupants. 

Strain  our  eyes  as  we  would,  not  a  trace  of  the 
long,  muddy  bodies  could  we  find.  The  Picara 
was  again  a  peacefully  flowing  stream,  winding 
its  way  among  the  bright-colored  underbrush, 
with  never  a  hint  of  the  deadly  peril  lurking  under 
its  current. 

The  barrel  of  my  gun  was  almost  blistering 
to  the  touch,  as  I  reloaded.  The  party  had  dis- 
charged all  of  fifty  shots  in  less  than  ten  minutes. 

*'How  many  do  you  think  we  bagged?"  I 
queried  as  the  Indians  sent  the  boat  around  in 
a  slow  circle. 

"Anyway,  half  a  dozen, "  was  Shanton  's  answer. 
*' We  must  have  sighted  at  least  forty  animals  all 
told.  Remember  if  your  bullet  hits  a  'gator  in 
any  spot  except  the  fleshy  part  of  his  neck,  it 
will  hardly  dent  his  hide.  Probably  ninety  per 
cent,  of  our  shots  reached  their  marks,  but  it  is 
not  likely  that  more  than  half  of  them  had  any 
serious  effect." 

''How  long  after  an  alligator  is  killed  before 
its  body  will  rise  to  the  surface?" 

"In  most  cases,  around  twelve  hours,  I  should 
say.  I  have  known  'gators  to  come  up  within 
eight    hours,   but   that   doesn't   happen   often. 


io8     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

What  is  that  native  over  there  trying  to  tell 
us?" 

At  a  discreet  distance  in  our  rear,  a  dugout 
had  been  following  our  boat,  with  three  men 
leisurely  handling  the  paddles.  One  of  them  was 
now  standing  erect  in  the  frail  craft,  shouting 
across  to  us  a  stream  of  excited  words  in  his 
broken  lingo. 

The  leader  of  our  crew  translated  clumsily. 

"He  says  that  for  one  dollar  he  will  bring  to 
the  bank  your  next  'gator. " 

"How?" 

The  man  in  the  boat  held  up  a  loose  coil  of 
rope  and  a  long  sharp-pronged  harpoon. 

"All  right,  go  ahead,"  responded  Shanton. 
"We'll  shoot  the  animal — and  you  do  the  rest. 
The  dollar's  yours  if  we  get  our  'gator." 

As  it  happened,  it  was  my  bullet  that  brought 
the  animal  down.     It  transpired  in  this  wise. 

A  slippery  stretch  of  black  mud  broke  the  line 
of  tropical  foliage  at  our  side,  jutting  out  in  a 
queer,  jagged  spur  into  the  water. 

A  moment  before  the  river  in  this  vicinity 
had  shown  scarcely  a  ripple.  Then  as  my  eyes 
carelessly  returned  to  it,  there  was  a  sudden 
tremor  in  the  waters — and  gliding  up  the  mud 
bank  in  plain  view  of  the  boat,  a  long,  brown 


A  Day  with  the  Panama  Alligators  1 09 

alligator  crawled  boldly  into  view.  Three  shots 
I  sent'  humming  toward  the  brute.  At  the  second 
he  was  sliding  back  into  the  water,  at  the  third 
he  had  disappeared  and  was  churning  the  stream 
into  a  heavy  foam  as  though  a  big  electric  fan 
below  were  spinning  furiously. 

"Keep  your  eyes  open!"  warned  Shanton 
in  a  low  tense  tone.  *'  He 's  coming  to  the  surface 
again  in  less " 

The  prediction  was  verified  before  he  completed 
the  sentence.  With  a  spasmodic  jerk,  the  'gator 's 
head  shot  into  the  air,  and  our  rifles  spoke  again. 
Slowly  the  animal  sank  from  sight. 

''He's  finished!"  cried  the  alert  Shanton,  as 
he  scanned  the  surface  intently.  ''You've  given 
him  his  death  shot!  Where's  that  chap  with  the 
harpoon?" 

But  he  was  already  rowing  lustily  to  the  spot. 
As  the  dugout  darted  ahead  of  us,  the  native  was 
bent  dangerously  over  the  side,  his  eyes  searching 
the  water  with  a  penetration  which  would  have 
required  a  magnifying-glass  for  us  to  equal.  In  a 
decreasing  line  the  boat  circled  around  the  spot 
where  the  'gator  had  disappeared.  The  man 
with  the  harpoon  called  something  in  a  low  tone 
to  his  companions,  and  a  long,  light  pole  in  the 
bottom  of  the  dugout  was  extended  to  him.    Rising 


I  lo     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

nimbly  to  his  feet,  he  began  a  series  of  rapid 
soundings. 

Was  the  alligator  beyond  his  reach  ?  Even  as  we 
asked  the  query,  a  cry  of  triumph  arose.  The 
animal  had  been  located. 

The  sounding  stick  was  transferred  to  another 
of  the  crew,  and  the  man  with  the  harpoon  began 
deftly  to  unwind  his  rope.  With  the  coil  in  one 
hand,  he  leaned  over  the  side,  lowering  the  iron 
hook  slowly  into  the  yellow  depths.  To  and  fro 
he  moved  it  gently,  now  and  then  giving  a  sharp 
order  to  his  companions. 

Once  the  hook  seemed  to  catch  and  then  break 
off.  The  second  time,  it  held  fast  and  he  straight- 
ened sharply  with  a  motion  to  the  others  to  row 
ahead.  The  dugout  forged  toward  the  bank,  the 
rope  in  the  water  tightened  abruptly,  and  the 
side  of  the  craft  was  forced  down  almost  level 
with  the  waves. 

Both  boat  and  hook  were  equal  to  the  strain. 
The  dugout  righted  itself — and  the  next  moment 
the  long,  slanting  head  of  the  alligator  came  to 
the  surface  with  a  rush.  The  prongs  were  buried 
firmly  in  its  great,  fleshy  jaw.  With  a  thrill,  we 
saw,  however,  that  the  beast  was  not  dead ! 

In  spite  of  the  bullets  which  had  ploughed  into 
its  neck,  and  the  deep  grip  of  the  heavy  hook. 


A  Day  with  the  Panama  Alhgators  m 

the  'gator  was  still  alive — quite  able  to  cause  an 
ugly  scene.  Nor  did  it  lose  any  time  in  doing 
so. 

The  moment  it  appeared  above  the  water,  it 
seemed  fairly  to  spring  through  the  air  toward 
midstream.  The  rope  was  twisted  sharply  around , 
the  dugout  whirled  like  a  toy,  and  from  the  three 
occupants  came  a  burst  of  alarmed  shouts. 

But  the  hook  had  too  firm  a  hold  for  even  the 
iron  strength  of  the  'gator  to  break. 

The  natives,  aroused  to  action,  threw  their  com- 
bined weight  against  it;  for  an  instant,  it  was 
a  tug-of-war  between  beast  and  men,  and  then 
the  ebbing  powers  of  the  animal  gave  way.  With- 
out resistance  the  'gator  allowed  itself  to  be 
dragged  again  toward  the  bank,  the  boat  ground- 
ing without  its  making  the  slightest  movement. 

No  sooner  had  the  foremost  of  the  crew  leaped 
ashore  than  he  reached  for  his  rifle.  Pressing 
the  barrel  against  the  beast's  great  fleshy  neck, 
he  pulled  the  trigger  twice  in  rapid  succession. 
He  was  taking  no  chances  of  being  caught  in  the 
alligator 's  teeth  in  its  death-struggles. 

We  followed  the  natives  to  the  bank  as  they 
were  pulling  the  animal  out  onto  the  open  ground. 

"What  do  you  say  is  its  length?"  asked  Shan- 
ton  as  we  sprang  onto  the  shore. 


112     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

"Possibly  six  or  seven  feet,"  I  replied,  think- 
ing I  had  put  the  figure  high. 

"You're  off,  away  off,"  laughed  the  Captain. 
And  so  it  proved.  From  the  tip  of  the  'gator's 
tail  to  its  mouth  was  a  distance  of  fourteen 
feet! 

"We  sometimes  find  them  twenty  feet  in  this 
neighborhood,"  supplemented  Shanton.  "This 
is  the  country  of  real  'gators  down  here,  you 
know." 

The  better  part  of  three  hours  still  remained 
for  us  after  lunch.  Deeper  into  the  jungle  we 
penetrated,  and  then  back  slowly  toward  the 
river's  mouth  as  the  afternoon  began  to  wane. 
But  we  had  seen  the  bulk  of  our  alligators. 

Shanton  sighted  one  animal  in  a  sand  clearing 
toward  the  end  of  the  stream,  and  pumped  three 
bullets  into  its  neck  so  quickly,  in  spite  of  the 
two-hundred-yard  distance,  that  it  was  killed 
instantly — a  distinctive  feat  even  for  an  expe- 
rienced sportsman.  With  the  exception  of  this 
incident,  however,  our  trip  back  to  the  Pacific, 
and  thence  out  to  the  Government  scow — or 
"clapert" — was  comparatively  uneventful. 

The  tropical  sunset  was  scarcely  an  hour  away 
when  we  began  our  twenty-three-mile  return 
journey  up  the  rugged  coast  of  Panama. 


I  F  H  II  k  ill  1 


A  Day  with  the  Panama  Alligators  113 

''How  many  alligators  are  bagged  down  here 
in  a  year 's  time  ? "  I  asked  Shanton,  as  he  finished 
emptying  one  of  our  few  remaining  cocoanuts. 

*'0h,  I  don't  know;  several  thousand,  more 
or  less,"  he  replied  carelessly.  "I  once  knew  a 
chap  in  Colombia,  hailing  from  New  England, 
I  believe,  who  went  into  the  'gator  business  on  a 
wholesale  scale.  During  his  first  season  he  shipped 
forty  thousand  skins  to  the  New  York  market 
at  one  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  per,  and  the 
next  year  he  raised  the  figure  to  sixty  thousand. 
How's  that?:' 

"You  surely  don't  mean  that  he  shot  them 
all?" 

"Well,  hardly!  He  contrived  a  curious  plan 
of  killing  the  'gators  with  a  young  chicken  and 
a  pointed  stick.  The  animal  was  lured  to  the 
bank  by  means  of  the  fowl,  and  when  it  opened 
its  mouth  to  snatch  the  bait,  the  sharpened  stick 
was  wedged  into  its  jaws.  A  stout  rope  had  been 
knotted  about  the  club,  and  the  other  end  coiled 
around  a  convenient  tree.  The  unfortunate  al- 
ligator was  thus  as  secure  a  prisoner  as  though 
it  were  surrounded  by  an  iron  cage. 

"The  New  Englander  captured  so  many  'gators 
by  this  ingenious  method  that  he  was  enabled 
to  retire." 

>   8 


CHAPTER  IX 

SH ANTON — TAMER  OF  PANAMA 

QHANTON'S  long  arms  passed  the  newly 
^  opened  cocoanut  across  to  me,  as  the  In- 
dian dried  his  machete  blade  and  cast  an  expert 
eye  toward  the  stack  of  remaining  husks  in  the 
boat 's  stern. 

As  the  sweet  milk  trickled  through  my  lips, 
Shanton  sank  back  onto  a  crooked  elbow,  stretched 
his  leggin-clad  feet  out  before  him  with  a  contented 
sigh,  and  puffed  solemn  smoke-clouds  toward 
the  fronds  of  the  palm  tree  overhead. 

We  had  wormed  our  way  a  dozen  miles  through 
the  Panama  jungle  after  alligators — ^nor  had  our 
search  been  in  vain.  Sprawled  out  on  the  mud 
bank  of  the  yellow  Picara  was  the  great,  clumsy 
body  of  a  fourteen-foot  'gator  with  a  circle  of  our 
Marlin  bullets  criss-crossed  in  its  hide. 

I  was  watching  the  black-red  blood  dripping 

from  its  mouth  when  Shanton  removed  his  pipe 

to  speak  of  the  Man  with  the  Steel  Muscles  at  the 

White  House. 

114 


Shan  ton — Tamer  of  Panama      115 

Always  he  is  this  to  Shanton, — Shanton,  who 
remembers  him  as  he  bunked  and  fasted  and 
fought  with  him  in  the  old  Rough  Rider  days, 
and  again  on  the  frontier  trails  of  the  West  when 
he  was  not  President  Roosevelt,  but  Roosevelt, 
the  sportsman, — every  inch  of  him!  This  was 
the  picture  that  Shanton  painted  in  our  lounging 
noon  hour  in  the  wilderness, — the  picture  of  a  com- 
rade, who  beyond  the  President  saw  the  Man. 
And  the  Indians,  impatient,  dozed  and  roused 
themselves,  and  dozed  again  as  we  talked. 

When  Roosevelt  picked  his  man  for  peace- 
maker and  peace-preserver  at  the  Panama  Canal, 
he  searched  the  West  and  fastened  on  George 
R.  Shanton,  cowboy,  deputy-marshal,  Spanish 
War  captain,  prize  ''bronco-buster,"  and  all- 
around  graduate  of  the  frontier, — ^that  portion 
of  the  frontier  where  a  revolver  shot  is  the  stand- 
ard of  eloquence.  The  President  wanted  a  chief 
of  police  at  Panama  fashioned  of  red  blood,  not 
of  red  tape. 

And  he  found  him. 

A  smile  of  reminiscence  sparkled  on  Shanton  *s 
face  and  his  square  chin  seemed  less  square,  as  he 
unbosomed  himself : 

''A  man  with  a  big  hand  appeals  to  me.  Mr. 
Roosevelt  has  a  big  hand,  and  he  knows  how  to 


ii6     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

use  it.  He  brought  it  down  on  my  back  once 
with  a  muscle  that  almost  floored  me. 

' '  It  was  on  the  day  of  my  departure  for  Panama. 
I  had  called  on  the  President  and  was  about  to 
leave,  when  he  raised  that  great  hand  and  clapped 
me  squarely  between  the  shoulders.  I  am  no 
small  man, " — six  feet  two  inches  in  his  stockings! 
— *'but  I  felt  that  blow  for  an  hour  afterward.'* 

''  '  I  am  sending  you  down  to  the  Canal,  my 
Colorado  bronco-buster,'  I  heard  Mr.  Roosevelt 
say,  when  I  recovered  myself,  'to  make  good, — 
to  make  good  .'  '" 

Shanton  gazed  musingly  out  over  the  muddy 
Picara. 

'*I  have  tried  to  do  so,"  he  added,  with  a 
soldier's  simpleness. 

In  the  background  of  my  fancy,  I  could  hear 
again  those  crisply  cut  Roosevelt  tones,  "I  am 
sending  you  down  to  Panama — to  make  good!" 

A  trio  of  monosyllables,  three  short,  curt  words, 
driven  home  like  a  nail  under  a  hammer — and 
they  sent  a  man  into  the  jungle  to  face  death 
many  times  and  in  many  guises  before  he  neared 
the  goal  to  which  they  pointed.  On  his  shoulders 
was  the  greatest  burden  it  is  given  men  to  carry — 
the  law ;  and  as  his  destination  he  faced  that  region 
where  in  all  American  territory  the  lawless  held 


i^^^^^^^^^^^^^^n^      ~     B^n^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 

^B^M 

Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      117 

most  brazen  sway.  At  his  right  and  at  his  left 
was  a  wilderness,  three  fourths  of  which  white 
man's  foot  had  never  explored.  In  its  heart  was 
a  winding  string  of  jungle-settlements,  with  a 
population  of  fifty  thousand  shirt-sleeved,  sun- 
browned-men — from  India  and  Indiana,  New  York 
and  New  Zealand,  St.  Louis  and  St.  Petersburg, 
men  who  numbered  forty  nationalities,  the  best 
citizens  and  the  worst  citizens  of  all  governments. 

Panama  has  been  the  cesspool  into  which  the 
human  refuse  of  the  globe  has  been  dumped  in 
ship-loads.  The  giant  task  of  the  New  World 
has  demanded  men  and  the  Old  World,  whisking 
a  hurried  broom  through  its  prison  cells,  has  sup- 
plied the  Man  but  kept  the  Manacles  at  home. 

Men  with  the  clammy  fear  of  the  guillotine 
and  the  block  and  the  gallows  were  pitchforked 
from  the  land  of  their  birth — ^to  find  new  victims 
in  the  wilds  of  the  Isthmus.  Thousands  of  them — 
the  vomitings  of  a  score  of  nations — ^were  driven 
cattle-like  into  the  hopper  of  the  Panama  Canal. 

And  in  the  smoke  of  the  greatest  engineering 
battle  of  history,  the  contagion  of  the  scowling 
stream  of  Europe's  cast-off  citizens  was  not  ap- 
preciated until  it  had  found  festering  lodgment. 
When  finally  the  gates  of  the  Isthmus  were  clanged 
shut,  the  peril  of  the  outlaw  was  locked  within 


ii8     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

its  borders.  And  the  project  which  it  threatened 
was  that  which  more  than  any  other  held  the 
honor  of  the  American  nation,  and  which  more 
than  any  other  a  jealous  world  was  watching, 
hungry  for  the  first  sign  of  failure. 

So  much  for  the  Men  and  the  Menace  which 
George  R.  Shanton,  late  of  the  Rough  Riders,  faced 
with  the  commission  that  named  him  police  chief 
of  the  five  hundred  square  miles  of  jungle  through 
which  the  Panama  Canal  is  to  bore  its  way. 

In  a  sentence  summary,  the  task  of  Shanton 
was  the  taming  of  the  Isthmus.  Has  he  won  or 
failed  in  its  accomplishment?  Five  years  ago, 
the  bandit  of  Panama  was  a  terror  unchecked. 
The  man  with  a  wallet  in  his  belt  carried  a  gun 
in  his  pocket.  To  name  the  Canal  was  to  name 
the  zone  of  the  greatest  lawlessness  from  Co- 
lombia to  Canada.  What  is  the  situation  to-day? 
We  hear  much  of  the  historical,  mechanical,  and 
political  conditions  of  the  Panama  Canal.  What 
are  the  details  of  law  and  order  that  we  find  at 
the  Isthmus?  It  is  a  query  which  gives  us  one 
of  the  most  amazing — and  least  known — chapters 
of  achievement  in  the  history  of  the  giant  water- 
way. Let  me  give  you  its  skeleton  outline  as 
it  was  presented  to  me  by  the  grizzled  engineer 
as  we   stared   into   the    starless   silence   of     the 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      119 

Panama  night.  We  had  been  watching  from 
the  veranda  of  the  Hotel  Tivoli  the  winking 
lights  of  the  city  of  Panama — ^yellow  rings  against 
the  blue  darkness — with  the  spell  of  this  sum- 
mer evening  in  midwinter  stealing  away  our 
adjectives.  Like  the  chill  of  a  cold  douche, 
shattering  to  fragments  our  sentiment,  came 
the  cynical  sentence  of  the  British  attache  at 
the  end  of  our  row : 

''What  a  night  for  crime!'' 

The  engineer  at  my  right  brought  his  tilted 
chair  to  the  floor  with  a  sharp  thud.  "You're 
wrong,"  he  shot  back  crisply.  "The  man  with 
the  sand-bag  is  taking  the  evening  off ! " 

The  attache  whistled  softly.  "I  admit  I'm 
new  to  Panama,"  he  began,  "but " 

The  engineer  brought  the  flame  of  his  match 
to  his  cigar.  "Then  you  don't  know  Shanton," 
he  finished  with  a  grin.  "These  are  the  nights 
when  the  Captain's  hawk  eyes  never  close — 
and  every  bad  man  from  here  to  Colon  knows 
it  as  well  as  he  knows  the  time-table  of  the  Pan- 
ama Railroad.  He  would  as  soon  think  of 
going  to  work  on  a  steam  shovel  as  running  into 
the  Shanton  vision." 

The  engineer  met  my  stare  with  a  chuckle. 
"Four  and  five  years  back  we  had  the  news  of 


I20     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

a  murder  served  to  us  for  breakfast  two  or  three 
times  a  week.  To-day  the  poHce  blotter  of  the 
Canal  Zone  shows  as  few  crimes  as  any  similiar 
extent  of  territory  in  the  United  States ! 

' '  More.  Put  our  population  at  sixty  thousand — 
outside  the  boundaries  of  the  Panamanian  govern- 
ment. Pick  any  city  of  sixty  thousand  in  'the 
States, '  covering  less  than  one  fiftieth  of  our  ex- 
tent, and  we  will  show  a  record  of  law  and  order 
just  as  good,  and  in  some  cases  better.  We  can  go 
even  further.  We  have  fewer  saloons  and  less 
gambling  in  the  Canal  Zone  than  the  average 
American  city  of  twenty-five  thousand!'* 

A  musing  moment  slipped  by  in  silence.  "And 
this  cyclone  reformation,"  I  gasped,  "what  has 
made  it?" 

' '  Shanton ! ' '    w^as  the  terse  reply. 

And  as  the  circle  of  my  Isthmus  prowlings 
broadened  and  deepened,  I  found  the  name 
echoed  with  a  grim  persistence.  The  engineer 
had  not  exaggerated.  In  the  forty-nine  miles 
of  American  territory  stretching  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific,  I  found  only  thirty-three  saloons. 
Two  years  ago  there  were  a  hundred  and  seventy- 
five. 

I  searched  industriously  for  the  rioting,  gam- 
bling games  of  the  border  and  discovered  but  two, 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      121 

and  these  in  half-hearted  operation.  Yet  the 
spirited  reminiscences  of  the  veteran  engineer 
at  my  elbow  drew  glaring  pictures  of  the  roulette 
and  faro  dens  of  three  years  before  with  the  at- 
tending knife-grapples  and  midnight  debauchery. 
In  the  six  months  preceding  my  visit,  there  were 
but  three  murders  in  the  Canal  Zone  and  not 
enough  burglaries  to  fill  the  fingers  of  one  hand. 
Less  than  four  years  ago,  within  the  span  of  one 
month  fifteen  knifed  men  were  found — ^without 
the  crime-statistics  reaching  the  record  mark! 

These  are  naked  facts.  How  have  they  been 
brought  about?  What  has  been  the  galvanizing 
power  behind  the  statistics?  To  point  my  answer, 
let  me  first  give  you  the  story  of  Shanton  and  the 
contested  election  of  ballots — and  bullets. 

It  had  been  a  campaign  of  unusual  warmth 
even  from  the  Panamanian  view-point  and  upon 
the  issue  there  hung  the  question  of  who  should 
rule  the  sullen  city  of  Panama  and  ride  in  the 
Mayor's  carriage.  Of  course  all  this  was  of  no 
concern  to  Americans,  for  across  the  official  boun- 
dary marking  the  limits  of  Panama,  Federal  au- 
thority counts  for  as  little  as  the  King 's  command 
on  this  side  of  the  Canadian  border.  When, 
however,  the  rifles  of  the  less  favored  faction 
appeared  to  offset  the  votes  of   their  opponents 


12  2     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

and  Yankee  property  owners  began  to  cast  un- 
easy eyes  toward  the  Cathedral  Square  at  every 
unusual  noise,  Shanton's  department  of  khaki- 
clad  men  were  given  sundry  curt  words  of  com- 
mand and  Shanton  himself,  on  his  restless  horse, 
"Topsy, "  galloped  toward  the  polls. 

As  evening  approached,  the  candidate  of  the 
minority  became  more  and  more  boisterous  and 
the  crowd  of  supporters  at  his  back,  hired  at  so 
much  the  hour,  surged  up  and  down  Avenue 
Central  with  ugly  threats  in  their  voices  if  not 
in  their  hearts.  About  this  time  the  whisper 
reached  the  frowning  Shanton  that  the  Panama- 
nian authorities  would  not  object  to  a  display  of 
Yankee  force  if  exerted  in  the  right  place  and 
at  the  right  time.  A  sudden  surge  forward  of 
the  crowd  at  his  shoulders  abruptly  determined 
his  plan  of  action. 

Spurring  his  horse  to  the  middle  of  the  street, 
his  hand  swung  back  to  his  revolver,  and  his 
voice  rang  crisply  out  over  the  scowling  faces 
before  him. 

"I  will  give  you  two  minutes,"  he  paused  with 
a  grim  smile,  '*in  which  to  disperse!  You  are 
well  enough  acquainted  with  me  to  know  that 
I  mean  what  I  say!" 

Shanton   was   alone.      The  nearest   American 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      123 

officer  was  blocks  away  and  he  realized  that  the 
crowd  of  mulattoes  and  Spaniards  and  Panama- 
nians knew  it  as  well  as  he  did.  But  his  frown 
was  as  sternly  confident  as  though  a  regiment 
were  chafing  at  his  back. 

The  line  of  sun-tanned  faces  before  him  hesi- 
tated, wavered,  then  there  was  a  sudden  forward 
movement  from  the  rear.  The  next  instant  there 
was  an  awkward  rush  toward  the  frowning  man 
on  the  horse. 

Shanton 's  revolver  leaped  into  the  air  and  a 
double  spurt  of  flame  shot  from  its  muzzle.  The 
rushing  figures  slackened  their  steps  and  then 
there  was  a  low,  sneering  cry  and  they  darted 
forward  again.  Shanton  had  fired  over  there 
heads.  It  was  a  moment  of  real  crisis.  Shanton 
still  held  his  revolver  poised  but  he  did  not  press 
the  trigger. 

Touching  his  horse  lightly  with  his  heels,  he 
backed  the  animal  toward  the  curb,  with  his  face 
and  weapon  toward  the  advancing  crowd.  The 
horse  reached  the  walk,  crossed  it,  hesitated 
against  the  window  of  a  bazaar,  and  then,  at  a 
word  from  its  rider,  backed  squarely  through  the 
panes.  There  was  the  crash  of  falling  glass  and 
then,  as  the  muttering  throng  came  to  an  aston- 
ished  pause,  Shanton  brought  his  horse  to  a  halt 


124     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

half-way  through  the  window.  His  revolver 
was  raised  a  deliberate  twelve  inches. 

"I  am  going  to  shoot  to  kill!"  he  announced 
grimly.  "The  man  who  is  standing  by  the  curb 
thirty  seconds  from  now  will  feel  a  bullet  in  his 
body!" 

The  sentence  produced  its  effect  before  it  was 
finished.  It  was  uttered  with  the  crisp  impatience 
of  the  man  who  means  action,  and  his  finger  was 
toying  with  a  disagreeable  carelessness  about  a 
certain  flimsy  trigger.  A  dozen  of  the  more  ex- 
posed figures  moved  quietly  into  the  background. 
At  that  moment  there  was  a  burst  of  lusty  Amer- 
ican shouts  from  the  end  of  the  block  and  a  squad 
of  mounted  policemen  spurred  toward  the  leader 
in  the  broken  window.  It  was  the  one  point 
needed  to  complete  the  chmax.  The  mob  broke 
into  a  stampede  for  safety,  and  the  threatened 
riot  was  at  an  end. 

As  a  tribute  to  a  man 's  personality,  the  incident 
is  perhaps  the  most  significant  of  the  Shanton 
stories  that  are  told  at  the  Canal.  Also  as  an 
illustration  of  one  of  the  central  factors  in  the 
taming  of  the  Isthmus,  it  is  illuminating.  He 
who  can  command  a  regiment  is  rated  a  leader  of 
men.  He  who  can  command  a  mob  bears  to  the 
former  the  relation  of  genius  to  talent.    And  fifty 


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Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      125 

thousand  men  in  the  heart  of  an  untamed  jungle 
are  much  more  likely  to  partake  of  the  elements 
of  the  mob  than  the  regiment,  and  much  more 
likely  to  respond  to  the  decisive  action  which 
rules  the  latter  and  to  chafe  under  the  daily  rou- 
tine which  disciplines  the  former. 

But  it  takes  genius  to  realize  and  emphasize 
this  fact.  Shanton  has  something  over  two  hun- 
dred men  under  his  command.  They  are  nomin- 
ally police  but  literally  as  far  from  the  conventional 
policeman  as  a  Western  sheriff  is  from  the 
"plain  clothes"  man  on  the  city  corner.  They 
have  thrown  away  the  police  helmets  and  the 
police  uniforms.  They  wear  khaki  and  broad 
Stetson  hats.  Likewise  they  have  thrown  away 
the  policeman's  distrust  of  his  neighbors.  They 
are  friends  with  every  man  at  the  Canal  with 
whom  they  can  be  friends. 

Shanton  has  laid  down  no  ramrod  rules.  If 
he  had,  one  thousand  men  could  not  police  the 
Canal  Zone.  He  appeals  primarily  to  a  man's 
sense  of  justice.  When  this  fails — and  it  does 
fail  often — he  appeals  to  his  sense  of  force.  There 
is  a  dead-line  beyond  which  the  Isthmus  knows 
it  is  not  safe  to  venture.  When  Shanton  uses 
his  gun,  he  does  so  not  only  with  the  certainty 
of  a  dead  shot,  but  with  the  ease  of  a  man  who 


126     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

is  absolutely  fearless.  This  is  why  he  can  handle 
a  mob.  This  is  why  the  outlaws  of  the  Isthmus 
know  that  his  hand  is  swift  and  deadly  and  con- 
sequently to  be  avoided. 

-  Yankee  justice  in  Panama  is  swift  and  unique. 
It  possesses  a  trade-mark  nowhere  else  duplicated. 
Up  until  a  short  span  of  months  ago  when  the 
conventionalism  of  shocked  jurists  interfered,  it 
was — ^ideal. 

Panama  above  all  else  is  an  impatient  country. 
When  it  does  things,  it  does  them  in  a  rapid  way. 
When  a  president  is  to  be  removed,  the  operation 
is  performed  and  his  successor  pitchforked  into 
ofhce  within  a  fortnight — or  less.  It  is  a  country 
that  does  n  't  believe  in  delay  except  in  matters 
of  daily  toil,  in  which  perhaps  it  is  not  exceptional. 
Therefore  when  to  the  Panamanian  restlessness 
we  add  Yankee  energy,  we  can  understand  that 
the  courts  of  the  Canal  Zone  have  been  clogged 
but  little  with  the  litter  of  red  tape. 

Up  until  the  fore  part  of  1908,  the  American 
residents  of  Panama  proudly  maintained  that 
they  had  solved  the  jury  problem — and  they  were 
right.  Then  the  Northern  courts  stepped  in  and 
ideals  were  shattered.  The  Canal  Zone  had 
reverted  largely  to  first  principles  in  the  selection 
and  operation  of  its  jury,  and  the  first  principles 


Shan  ton — Tamer  of  Panama      127 

were  a  little  too  blunt  and  perhaps  too  simple  for 
the  black-robed  dignitaries  of  "the  States,"  who 
seek  to  regulate  the  laws  of  a  living  generation  by 
the  moth-eaten  rules  of  men  dead  half  a  century 
and  more. 

The  Canal  Zone  instituted  a  jury  of  three — 
and  it  made  sure  that  the  three  were  men  who 
knew  the  law  and  had  no  qualms  about  adminis- 
tering it.  The  trio  were  not  laymen.  They  were 
not  only  acquainted  with  the  dusty  law  books 
stacked  to  their  right  and  left,  but  had  a  working 
knowledge  of  men.  Also  they  knew  the  temper 
of  the  country  and  realized  that  they  were  there 
to  enforce  the  law — ^not  to  pick  flaws  in  it.  They 
were  too  busy  to  wrangle  over  the  interpretation 
of  an  adjective,  and  consequently  the  public  was 
not  bored  with  a  long,  useless  trial  for  which  the 
dear  people  had  to  pay. 

To  the  opinion  of  the  jury  was  left  all  questions 
from  the  stealing  of  a  dynamite  keg  to  the  ex- 
ploding of  such  keg — with  malicious  intent.  If 
a  man  picked  the  pockets  of  his  neighbor  or  took 
his  life  or  stole  his  wife,  the  same  jury  passed  upon 
the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  action  with  equal 
calm  and  equal  force. 

During  my  Panama  visit,  I  remember  that  a 
prisoner  was  sent  to  the  penitentiary  for  ten  years 


128     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

within  six  days  after  an  aggravated  highway 
robbery.  Before  the  week  was  over,  he  had  be- 
gun to  serve  his  sentence!  The  Americans  "at 
home"  would  call  this  "frontier  justice"  and 
shrug  their  shoulders  at  its  "crudeness. "  In  New 
York,  the  jury  would  hardly  have  been  selected 
within  this  period — if  the  prisoner  had  a  few 
thousands  to  drop  onto  the  scales  of  justice. 

In  a  characteristic  letter  from  Shanton  not 
a  great  v/hile  ago — a  letter  bare  of  superfluous  ad- 
jectives, for  the  man  writes  as  he  shoots — I  read 
the  story  of  a  thrilling  chase  through  the  under- 
brush of  the  mountains  after  a  trio  of  skulking 
outlaws.  It  was  true  that  most  of  the  story  ap- 
peared between  the  Hnes,  but  the  affair  was  as 
vivid  as  a  moving-picture  film,  for  the  crisp  sen- 
tences of  a  man  of  action  must  themselves  bristle 
with  action.  The  outlaws  were  of  mixed  nation- 
alities— apparently  the  worst  features  of  half 
a  dozen  races  in  their  make-up — and  they  had 
torn  a  whirlwind  path  from  Culebra  to  Colon. 
In  the  end,  they  had  pried  up  the  tracks  of  the 
Panama  Railroad  for  the  playful  purpose  of 
watching  the  next  train  crash  into  the  palm  trees, 
which  action — shorn  of  disastrous  effects  barely  in 
time — was  the  clue  which  put  the  irate  Shanton 
hot  at  their  heels. 


Shan  ton — Tamer  of  Panama      129 

It  was  a  stern  chase  and  a  long  one.  •  The  Pan- 
ama mountain  range  is  a  broken  slice  of  the 
Andes  and  just  as  ugly  and  just  as  treacherous 
as  the  rest  of  the  scowHng  chain.  There  are  parts, 
in  fact  many  parts,  where  a  white  man  has  never 
penetrated — and  few  brown  or  red  men.  It  was 
toward  these  sections  that  the  retreating  outlaws 
were  shaping  their  course. 

It  was  a  matter  of  three  rough-and-tumble 
days  and  sleepless  nights  before  the  circle  of  pur- 
suers corraled  their  prey.  A  storm  of  spattering 
bullets  emphasized  the  beginning  of  the  end. 
Desperate  men  with  the  certainty  of  the  gallows 
at  their  elbows  have  small  reason  to  care  for 
their  own  lives  or  those  of  others.  When  the  final 
rush  of  the  Shanton  contingent  was  made,  the  po- 
lice reached  their  quarry  in  a  literal  baptism  of 
lead.  The  last  stand  was  an  affair  of  clubbed  rifles 
and  bruised  fists.  It  was  a  battle  as  desperate  as 
any  waged  by  the  armor-clanking  adventurers  of 
Balboa  on  the  same  trail  four  centuries  in  the 
past. 

When  the  bandit  trio  were  reduced  to  the  sub- 
jection of  the  Panama  "nippers" — curiously 
enough  no  man  in  either  the  pursued  or  the  pur- 
suers being  fatally  hurt — Shanton  prepared  with 
the    rough-and-ready    carelessness    of   the    great 


130     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

out-of-doors  for  the  next  chapters  of  the 
drama. 

''I  now  stand  ready,"  he  wrote  grimly,  "to 
execute  the  sentence  of  the  law,  of  *  death  by  hang- 
ing, *  just  as  soon  as  I  am  told  to  go  ahead!  " 

Wherefore,  the  shocked  jurists  of  "the  States" 
would  again  hold  up  pudgy  hands  of  horror  and 
declaim  against  the  roughness  of  the  border,  where 
a  police  chief  having  caught  his  prisoner  proceeds 
to  punish  him  while  his  crime  is  still  warm  in  the 
public  memory!  Panama  throws  aside  the  tech- 
nicalities of  dead  law-makers  in  dealing  with 
living  law-breakers.  It  believes  in  punishing 
a  crime  before  the  crime  has  been  forgotten,  that 
men  who  may  contemplate  a  similar  offence  may 
know  what  to  expect. 

It  was  not  till  I  stood  in  the  heart  of  the  Culebra 
Cut,  where  in  all  the  windings  of  the  Isthmus 
man  and  Nature  are  locked  in  their  most  desperate 
grapple,  that  I  found  the  motive  power  of  the 
canal — ^the  army  of  toil  behind  the  steam  shovels 
and  the  dirt  trains  and  the  air  drillers.  In  the 
thunder  of  the  engines  three  thousand  men  in 
twisting,  squirming  rows — from  the  cliffs,  snake- 
like coils  of  ants — ^were  burrowing  deep  down 
into  the  red  and  yellow  clay,  now  with  their  bent 
backs  alone  visible  like  the  angle  of  a  half-closed 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      131 

jack-knife,  and  again  their  faces  bobbing  up  into 
the  sun,  grim  and  grimy  and  dripping  wet  with 
perspiration.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  sweep  the 
ant-men  wound  their  serpent  coils  until  they  were 
swallowed  by  the  bend  of  the  scowling  cliffs — 
rising  and  sinking,  rising  and  sinking  like  the  wash 
of  a  troubled  sea. 

And  again,  beyond  the  range  of  vision,  they 
crept  on  even  as  the  bead  of  flame  creeps  down 
the  fuse,  until  the  task-drivers,  with  the  great 
blue-prints  and  circling  compasses  and  strange 
rows  of  figures,  brought  them  to  the  surf  of  the 
Pacific.  And  again,  over  through  the  lazy,  nodding 
palm  trees  at  the  side,  they  thrust  restless,  clawing 
arms  into  the  long,  green  stretches  of  the  jungle, 
carrying  two  steel  rails  through  the  narrow  path 
the  machete  chopped.  Over  these  rails,  rumbling, 
swaying  rows  of  cars  were  to  come,  bearing  the 
red  and  yellow  clay  and  the  great,  jagged  rocks 
torn  up  by  the  ant-men  as  their  burrowings  grew 
deeper  and  longer  and  nearer  the  two  oceans 
they  are  to  unite. 

Blistered  by  the  rays  of  the  copper  sun,  smoth- 
ered by  the  disease  vapors  of  the  jungle, 
bruised  and  battered  and  broken  by  the  lash  of 
toil,  it  is  an  army  clamoring  always  for  men,  more 
men,  with  which  to  repair  its  torn  ranks  and  fill 


132      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

its  gaping  holes  and  reinforce  its  assaults  on  the 
red  and  yellow  clay.  Nor  can  it  look  beyond  the 
sound  limbs  of  its  recruits.  So  that  it  assimilates 
men  rough  both  as  to  hands  and  morals — and 
rougher  in  the  wilderness  with  home  a  matter  of 
thousands  of  miles  beyond  the  palm  trees.  This 
is  the  Army  of  Brawn  and  Muscle,  criss-crossed 
on  the  edge  of  Nowhere,  that  is  digging  the  Panama 
Canal.  To  attempt  to  discipline  this  army  by 
the  starched  laws  of  the  well-groomed,  well-man- 
nered city  of  **the  States"  would  be  to  attempt 
the  impossible.  He  who  would  control  such  a 
body  successfully  must  know  men — ^in  the  raw, 
stripped  of  the  veneer  of  polite  society. 

It  is  not  in  the  day's  work  of  the  Canal  that 
the  police  problems  bristle.  When  men  are  driv- 
ing their  physical  energies  at  top-notch  speed, 
they  have  small  opportunity  for  either  restlessness 
or  lawlessness.  It  is  in  the  reaction  following  the 
daily  toil  that  the  germ  of  discontent  is  bred 
and  men  plunge  into  hilarious,  ribald  amuse- 
ment. 

It  was  not  in  the  mines  of  "Forty- Nine"  that 
the  reckless  crimes  of  the  frontier  were  developed ; 
it  was  in  the  saloon  and  the  gambling  den  next 
door  to  the  mines — where  the  men  went  when 
the  day's  work  was  over.    This  truth  of  human 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      133 

nature  was  early  recognized  in  the  law  and  order 
campaign  of  the  Panama  Canal. 

The  day  of  the  Isthmus  toiler  was  filled.  The 
problem  remaining  was  to  fill  his  evening.  And 
in  the  heart  of  an  untamed  jungle,  both  the  pos- 
sibilities and  the  encouragements  of  the  subject 
were  limited.  On  the  one  hand,  Shanton  faced 
the  maudlin  sway  of  faro  and  cheap  whiskey. 
On  the  other,  he  confronted  the  chafing  monotony 
of  a  border  evening,  lacking  theatres,  libraries, 
and  even  the  gossip  of  society.  It  was  the  choice 
of  a  man's  sullen  thoughts  and  solitude — or  the 
roulette  wheel  and  forget  fulness.  And  in  the 
spell  of  for  get  fulness,  men  even  forgot  the  law 
and  the  revelry  of  the  Canal  became  proverbial. 

Then  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association 
came  to  the  Isthmus  and  the  harassed  chief  of  the 
worn-out  police  force  joined  eager  hands  with  the 
secretary  and  turned  his  policing  over  to  the  alert 
man  with  the  bowling  alleys  and  the  basket  balls 
and  the  Indian  clubs.  Also  Uncle  Sam  turned  a 
kindly  eye  toward  the  new  arrival — and  realizing 
that  a  man's  working  efficiency  depends  on  how 
he  rests  and  how  he  plays,  gave  from  his  own 
pocket  the  funds  for  the  construction  of  the  four 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  club-houses  which  presently  dotted 
the  Canal  Zone  from  Colon  to  Panama. 


134     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Being  men  who  had  dealt  much  with  men,  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  secretaries  also  shattered  the  starched 
traditions  of  home,  and  gave  the  gymnasium 
over  occasionally  to  dancing  clubs,  and  turned 
the  reception  hall  over  to  the  pool  players,  and 
sold  cigars  and  soda-water  at  all  decent  hours, 
and  established  a  free  circulating  library  with 
books  of  real  human  interest.  Moreover  they 
invited  in  the  wives — and  defied  the  saloons  to 
get  their  men  away  from  them. 

And  Shanton,  seeing  how  the  current  of  events 
was  wending,  leaned  back  and  rubbed  well  satis- 
fied hands,  for  in  one  year  the  saloons  and  the 
crime  of  the  Canal  were  decreased  by  thirty-three 
per  cent.  When  the  baseball  league  was  organ- 
ized the  next  year,  the  percentage  was  pushed  to 
a  still  higher  notch.  Now  they  are  doubling  the 
number  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  buildings  and  the 
gamblers  are  leaving  for  Colombia  or  Jamaica. 
Shanton 's  policemen  are  nearly  all  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
men  and  Shanton  himself  ranks  the  power  of 
the  organization  even  above  the  powder  of  a 
revolver — which  is  high  place  in  his  esteem. 

The  problem  of  the  Canal  worker's  evening 
has  been  solved,  and  the  man 's  physical  and  moral 
well-being  and  the  public  peace  of  the  community 
have  bounded  forward  as  from  a  Gatling  gun. 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama      135 

The  American  and  Panamanian  police  do  not 
dovetail.  Neither,  however,  do  they  conflict. 
Perhaps  this  is  because  a  clash  would  be  fatal  to 
the  Canal.  Yet  in  no  detail  are  the  two  extremes 
of  the  Isthmian  civilization  more  sharply  under- 
scored. 

To  put  it  bluntly,  the  police  force  of  Panama 
is  a  relic  of  the  underground  dungeons  of  the 
Inquisition.  The  republic  of  Panama  does  not 
permit  capital  punishment.  The  statutes  of  our 
tea-cup  neighbor  have  eliminated  the  barbarity 
of  the  death  penalty  with  one  indignant  sweep. 
But  when  the  judge  goes  out  of  one  door  with  the 
law,  the  executioner  enters  by  another — without 
the  law. 

Suppose  we  follow  the  fate  of  a  certain  politi- 
cal prisoner,  whose  crime  seems  to  have  been  a 
too  great  ambition. 

Closely  surrounded  by  from  six  to  eight  guards — 
policemen  are  as  plentiful  as  water  in  Panama — 
the  prisoner  is  escorted  to  the  frowning  gates  of 
the  national  penitentiary,  overlooking  the  great 
blue  waves  of  the  Pacific.  In  due  course  he  is 
given  a  cell,  but  no  doubt  is  too  much  engrossed 
in  his  own  reflections  to  notice  the  significant 
shrugs  of  the  shoulders  among  the  attending 
guards  as  the  door  clangs  behind  him.    One  man 


136      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

indeed  hastily  crosses  himself  and  the  majority 
of  the  group  seem  to  remember  suddenly  pressing 
duties  elsewhere.  The  prisoner  has  arrived  in  the 
late  afternoon.  If  he  examines  his  cell  before  the 
swift  tropical  twilight  comes,  he  finds  that  the  roof 
is  in  an  extremely  indifferent  state  of  repair. 
In  fact,  it  is  sagging  at  such  an  angle  that  even  to 
his  careless  eye  it  looks  as  though  it  might  fall 
at  any  moment.  The  prisoner  may  rattle  the 
bars  of  his  cage  and  bring  a  scowling  attendant 
to  the  scene. 

*'Ah,  that  is  all  right,  Sefior!"  the  guard 
grins.  "Perhaps  in  the  morning  we  will  move 
you,   eh?" 

They  did — as  a  corpse.  In  the  night  the  roof 
fell,  the  debris  crushing  out  the  life  of  the  helpless 
prisoner  as  surely  as  though  he  had  been  swung 
through  the  trap  of  a  gallows. 

An  accident  ?  Such  is  the  official  version  of  the 
affair  and  if  the  one  Spanish  newspaper  makes 
mention  of  the  incident  it  is  to  reduce  it  to  a  half- 
dozen  lines. 

Ask  any  of  the  American  veterans  of  the  Isth- 
mus, however,  for  the  truth  and  he  will  reply  with 
scraps  of  the  "secret  history"  of  the  Panama 
penitentiary  that  outrival  even  the  morbid  brain 
of  Edgar  Allan  Poe.     The  cell  with  the  sagging 


Shanton — Tamer  of  Panama       137 

roof  is  so  often  occupied  that  its  tragedy  passes  as 
an  incident. 

They  do  not  have  capital  punishment  in  Pan- 
ama. It  would  be  embarrassing  perhaps  to  station 
certain  inconvenient  prisoners  before  a  public  firing 
squad.    The  underground  cell  is  more  convenient. 

They  also  have  jail  deliveries  at  the  Panama 
penitentiary.  Often  eight  and  ten  prisoners  have 
been  known  to  escape  m  a  group.  At  once,  a  pur- 
suing band  of  soldiers  with  restless  rifles  is  on 
their  trail.  Those  soldiers  invariably  do  their 
work  well  and  promptly.  They  never  bring  a 
prisoner  back,  and  a  prisoner  never  escapes. 
Always  the  official  report  of  the  affair  is  the  same. 
The  convicts  showed  resistance  and,  as  was  right 
and  proper,  they  were  shot.  Panama  goes  its 
cynical  way  undisturbed  and  the  affair  is  forgotten, 
for  the  official  memory  of  unpleasant  events  in 
our  sister  republic  is  proverbially  short. 

Return  to  the  veteran  engineer,  however,  who 
has  lived  long  enough  in  Panama  to  see  below  the 
surface  and  he  will  begin  to  check  on  his  fingers 
the  list  of  such  ''  escapes  "  that  he  remembers  in  the 
past  five  years.  And,  as  the  engineer  continues, 
the  number  progresses  at  a  rate  that  is  startling. 
Always  there  is  one  central  feature  in  common. 
The  prisoners  who  escaped  were  the  prisoners 


138     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

that  *'the  State"  wanted  to  escape,  undesirables 
whose  elimination  was,  er, — advisable! 

With  a  system  such  as  this  at  his  elbow,  an 
unexplored  jungle  to  his  right  and  left,  and  in  its 
heart  the  offspring  of  forty  nationalities,  the  police 
problem  of  Shanton  is  unique  in  the  crime  annals 
of  the  world. 

In  his  keeping  are  the  safety  of  his  country's 
gold,  his  country's  subjects,  and  his  country's 
honor.  To  their  protection  he  is  giving  the  best 
that  is  in  him  and  always  with  the  willingness, 
when  all  else  fails,  to  add  his  life  if  needs  be. 

He  has  made  good.  What  these  words  mean 
to  the  American  people,  no  man  can  say  until 
the  Panama  Canal  is  a  reality.  ^ 

1  Since  this  chapter  was  written  Captain  George  R.  Shanton 
has  been  promoted  to  the  command  of  the  Porto  Rican 
Police  Department,  with  the  rank  of  colonel.  His  service 
at  Panama  covered  a  period  of  four  years  and  six  months. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  DISEASE  BATTLE  OF  THE  ISTHMUS 

FOUR  hundred  and  fifty-two  pounds  of  quinine 
were  consumed  by  the  residents  of  the  Canal 
Zone  during  the  month  of  May,  1906.  In  other 
words,  in  the  thirty-one  days  1,575,000  two-grain 
capsules  were  distributed  by  the  American  dispen- 
saries. Over  100,000  grains  of  quinine  were  needed 
every  twenty-four  hours  to  protect  the  health 
of  the  Isthmus! 

To-day,  one  ninth  of  this  amount  is  sufficient, — 
and  the  death-rate  has  been  cut  squarely  in  two. 
During  1906,  the  average  percentage  of  mortal- 
ity among  the  white  residents  of  Panama  was 
that  of  20  persons  to  the  1000.  In  1909,  it  will 
not  exceed  the  ratio  of  10  to  the  1000. 

By  these  two  extremes  is  the  progress  of  the 
disease-battle  of  the  jungle  to  be  gauged.  Qui- 
nine is  a  big  word  at  Panama — from  the  moment 
our  steamer  docked  at  Colon  we  found  it  empha- 
sized— but   it   alone   has  not  won   the   victory. 

139 


I40     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

The  sanitary  department  of  the  Canal  Zone 
is  maintained  at  an  average  monthly  expense 
of  $100,000.  It  is  costing  Uncle  Sam  $1,200,000  a 
year  to  wage  the  battle  with  the  disease  germs 
of  the  jungle. 

A  force  of  1500  men  is  given  constant  employ- 
ment— laborious  employment  often — in  the  com- 
pletion of  the  mass  of  daily  detail  work  which 
the  campaign  embraces.  The  taming  of  the 
Panamanian  wilderness  has  meant  its  disinfect- 
ing as  well.  It  was  not  enough  to  exterminate 
germs  of  fever  and  malaria  within  a  man.  It  was 
necessary  also  to  exterminate  those  outside  of 
him  before  they  reached  their  victim. 

A  man  can  endure  hardship,  privation,  hunger, 
he  can  win  against  the  odds  of  Nature,  he  can  de- 
feat the  wiles  of  his  fellows, — but  the  man  has 
not  yet  lived  who  can  throttle  the  deadly  stupor 
of  a  tropical  fever.  While  the  canal-builders  of 
Panama  have  been  battling  against  the  obstacles 
of  mountain  and  jungle,  the  health-builders  have 
been  battling  against  a  more  insidious  foe, — ^the 
circle  of  diseases  bred  over  night  in  the  devirs 
own  caldron  of  the  wilderness. 

Twentieth-century  sanitation  has  scored  such 
a  triumph  at  Panama  that  for  two  years  not  one 
case  of  yellow  fever  has  been  recorded  on  the  Isth- 


The  Disease  Battle  of  the  Isthmus   141 

mus!  Indeed  the  disease  battle  so  far  eclipses 
any  previous  feat  of  this  character  that  it  must 
be  awarded  a  distinctive  place  in  history. 

In  Colon,  the  Atlantic  port  of  the  Republic  of 
Panama,  the  number  of  dead  persons  is  greater 
than  the  census  of  the  living.  There  are  more 
corpses  in  the  cemetery,  buried  from  five  to  fifty 
years,  than  the  entire  population  of  the  city, — 
estimated  at  14,000. 

It  is  statistics  like  these  that  show  the  full 
extent  of  the  tropical  disease  ravages  which 
the  American  sanitary  engineer  has  faced — ^and 
conquered. 

The  operations  of  the  health  experts  of  the 
Isthmus  include  several  divergent  and  yet  dove- 
tailing features.  The  trail  of  the  disease  is  not 
always  followed  to  its  victims — it  is  often  followed 
away  from  them,  from  effect  to  cause  as  it  were. 
In  this  connection,  the  features  of  quarantine 
and  public  and  private  sanitation  are  of  course 
prominent,  but  apart  from  these  details  the  health 
department  frequently  sends  a  detachment  of  in- 
spectors miles  from  the  beaten  track  of  men, — 
to  localities  where  perhaps  the  foot  of  native  or 
foreigner  has  not  trod  for  weeks, — ^there  to  seek 
the  primary  origin  of  the  death-dealing  fever  or 
malaria. 


142     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

It  is  in  this  connection  that  the  mosquito  ap- 
pears,— ^the  mosquito  which  up  to  the  present  has 
claimed  more  victims  each  year  in  the  Republic  of 
Panama,  alone,  than  the  6400  death  roll  of  the 
Spanish- American  War! 

In  the  Canal  Zone  are  fifty  known  varieties  of 
mosquitoes,  and  at  least  ten  classes  which  have 
not  been  definitely  named !  The  greater  portion 
are  harmless,  but  there  are  at  least  three  varieties 
whose  bites  carry  the  most  dangerous  infection, — 
which  in  from  one  to  two  weeks  may  easily  bring 
the  victim  to  his  death-bed. 

In  the  technical  language  of  the  sanitary  de- 
partment, these  are  distinguished  under  the  heads 
of  "anopheles"  and  ''stegomyia" — ^the  former 
bearing  in  their  bites  the  germs  of  quick-eating 
malaria,  the  latter  plunging  their  victims  into 
the  throes  of  yellow  fever. 

In  1908,  thirty- two  hundred  barrels  of  oil  were 
used  in  the  mosquito  war, — a  total  of  160,000 
gallons.  The  sanitary  department  takes  the  posi- 
tion that  every  mosquito  should  be  exterminated 
in  the  interest  of  the  general  health,  whether 
''productive  of  disease  or  only  profanity,"  and 
a  wholesale  death  decree  has  been  issued, — and 
carried  out. 

The  principal  method  of  execution  is  the  thin, 


The  Disease  Battle  of  the  Isthmus    143 

greasy  scum  of  oil  spread  over  the  surface  of  the 
water,  where  the  breeding-place  of  the  insects  has 
been  located.  The  coating  is  so  light  that  a  small 
breeze  will  often  sweep  it  over  to  the  sides  of  the 
pool,  leaving  a  comparatively  cleared  space  from 
which  it  would  seem  the  mosquito  could  easily 
make  its  escape,  without  touching  its  wings  to 
the  dangerous  fluid.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however, 
it  is  not  the  amount  of  oil  which  the  insect  receives 
on  its  body  that  renders  it  harmless.  The  oil  must 
be  absorbed  internally  and  not  externally  to  make 
it  effective. 

Contrary  to  the  general  belief,  a  large  quan- 
tity of  water  is  necessary  for  the  breeding  of 
the  average  mosquito.  A  marsh  or  swamp 
vv^ith  comparatively  little  moisture  repels  rather 
than  attracts  the  pest.  Tall  grass,  weeds,  or 
brush  rarely  serve  as  a  lurking-place  for  the 
insect.  If  there  is  no  body  of  water  in  the 
neighborhood,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a 
hundred,  there  V\^ill  be  no  mosquitoes.  And  in 
many  instances  even  foul  water  will  be  care- 
fully avoided  by  the  female  seeking  a  suitable 
breeding  locality. 

Mosquitoes  are  propagated  through  the  medium 
of  eggs.  An  expert  can  tell  at  a  glance  the  species 
of  insect  through  the  shape  of  the  eggs,  the  manner 


144     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

in  which  they  are  distributed,  and  often  through 
the  number. 

In  some  instances,  hundred  of  eggs  are  laid, 
and  then  glued  firmly  together  with  a  thin,  paste- 
like substance  so  that  they  can  float  on  the  water 's 
surface.  In  other  cases  the  eggs  are  deposited 
singly,  while  still  other  species,  it  is  known,  sur- 
round their  eggs  with  a  gelatinous  matter  after 
the  fashion  of  a  frog. 

It  is  a  peculiar  fact  that  the  egg  is  invariably 
placed  in  the  water  point  dov/nward,  so  that  the 
young  ones  will  descend  to  the  bottom  and  not 
rise  to  the  top, — ^where  the  tropical  sun  would 
mean  almost  instant  death. 

Under  favorable  conditions,  the  eggs  may  be 
relied  upon  to  hatch  the  larvae  in  from  twelve  hours 
to  six  days.  Translated  into  plain  English,  these 
are  the  "wigglers,"  as  the  layman  knows  them, 
which  are  found  in  the  rain  barrel  or  open  cistern. 

The  larvae  must  rise  to  the  surface  for  fresh 
air  at  intervals  of  not  over  two  minutes.  If  forced 
to  remain  under  longer,  strangulation  will  follow. 
Here  is  where  the  deadly  work  of  the  sanitary 
inspector  is  accomplished,  with  the  oil-can. 

During  the  twelve  days  which  form  the  usual 
life  of  the  larvae,  five  sixths  of  the  period  is 
devoted    to    eating  and  breathing,   and  the  re- 


The  Disease  Battle  of  the  Isthmus   145 

mainder^ — the  last  two  days — to  the  purpose  of 
breathing  only. 

The  larva  performs  the  functions  of  eating 
and  breathing  at  opposite  ends  of  its  tiny,  wiggling 
body.  The  breathing  tube  projects  from  the 
back,  and  not  the  front,  its  angle  depending  on 
the  species  to  which  the  mosquito  belongs.  The 
tube  of  the  anopheles,  the  malaria-infected  mos- 
quito, projects  outward  at  right  angles  and  is  so 
short  that  the  insect  is  forced  to  lie  in  a  horizontal 
position  when  breathing.  At  its  extremity  is  a 
minute  valve,  which  remains  shut  while  the  larva 
is  under  water,  but  which  flies  open  at  will. 

With  a  twist  of  its  thin,  hair-like  tail,  the  insect 
squirms  its  way  to  the  surface,  thrusts  its  breath- 
ing tube  above  the  water,  opens  the  end  valve,  and 
inhales  the  fresh  air  around  it.  When  the  water 
is  covered  with  the  scum  of  oil,  death  and  not 
life  is  drawn  into  its  body.  As  the  thick,  greasy 
oil  is  absorbed  by  the  gasping  insect,  the  fluid 
burns  its  way  through  the  breathing  tube  like 
molten  lead. 

The  breeze  invariably  clears  a  portion  of  the 
surface,  it  is  true,  but  as  the  larva  is  forced  to  rise 
every  two  minutes  both  day  and  night,  it  brushes 
against  the  fiery  death  720  times  every  twenty- 
four  hours! 


14^     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Cruel,  heartless,  this  method  of  extermination? 
It  is  either  the  Hfe  of  the  mosquito  or  the  Hfe  of 
the  man! 

Both  with  oil  and  quinine  the  menace  of  the 
mosquito  is  being  fought.  Quinine,  one  of  the 
most  beneficial  drugs  to  man  that  has  ever  been 
discovered,  is  absolutely  fatal  to  the  mosquito, 
and  this  fact  is  made  known  to  the  tourist 
even  before  he  sets  foot  on  Panamanian  shores. 
Neatly  printed  handbills,  bearing  the  signature  of 
Colonel  W.  C.  Gorgas,  chief  of  the  sanitary  depart- 
ment, are  distributed  on  the  steamer  deck,  and 
prepare  the  visitor  for  the  early  morning  diet  of 
quinine,  which  he  comes  to  expect  with  the  same 
regularity  as  his  eggs  or  breakfast  food. 

With  the  subjection  of  the  mosquito,  the  san- 
itary department  has  coupled  the  extermination 
of  the  fly.  Although  yellow  fever  has  been  smoth- 
ered, typhoid  is  alarmingly  prevalent  at  the 
Isthmus,  and  experts  unite  in  the  theory  that 
much  of  it  is  spread  through  the  medium  of  the 
apparently  innocent  fly.  In  no  portion  of  the 
world  to-day  is  so  vigorous  a  crusade  being  made 
against  the  evil  of  the  house-fly. 

The  fever  is  communicated  through  a  needle- 
like plant,  under  the  scientific  name  of  ''typhoid 
bacillus" — detected  only  through  a  microscope — 


The  Disease  Battle  of  the  Isthmus   147 

which  clings  to  the  thread-like  legs  of  the  swarms 
of  flies,  hovering  around  a  garbage  or  refuse  heap. 
In  the  path  of  the  insects  through  the  house,  and 
often  over  the  food  on  the  table,  the  unnoticed 
bacilli  are  left  behind, — almost  invisible  particles 
of  deadly  poison. 

As  a  first  step  in  the  battle  with  the  flies,  a 
complete  system  of  garbage  disposal  has  been 
organized,  supplemented  by  a  thorough  inspection 
of  every  dwelling  on  the  Isthmus,  whether  under 
American  jurisdiction  or  in  the  limits  of  the  Re- 
public of  Panama. 

At  the  present  time,  3800  cans  of  garbage  are 
being  removed  daily,  the  refuse  dumped  into 
furnaces  especially  constructed  for  this  purpose, — 
the  system  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness  more 
perfect  than  that  which  prevails  in  the  average 
American  city! 

Garbage  furnaces  are  now  in  operation  at 
the  settlements  of  Gatun,  Tabernilla  and  Em- 
pire, and  others  are  being  constructed  at 
Culebra  and  Gorgona,  with  even  more  in  pros- 
pect. 

Here  is  an  extract  from  the  September  report 
of  the  sanitary  department  for  1907,  which  shows 
another  vivid  result  of  the  house-to-house  canvass 
of  the  Isthmus:— 


148      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Thirty-one  houses  were  condemned  as  being  unfit 
to  occupy  in  their  present  state,  but  which  could  be 
made  habitable  by  repairs.  The  majority  of  these 
houses  were  flat  upon  the  ground  and  in  many  cases 
earth  was  used  for  a  floor.  These  dwellings  all  had 
condemnation  notices  placed  on  them  and  a  reasonable 
time  given  in  which  either  to  vacate  or  make  the  neces- 
sary repairs.  Only  one  house  was  demolished,  and 
this  with  the  consent  of  the  owner. 

It  may  be  remarked  in  passing,  however,  that, 
whether  the  consent  of  the  owner  had  been  given 
or  not,  the  result  would  have  been  the  same. 
By  a  special  concession  of  the  Panamanian  gov- 
ernment, the  American  sanitary  department  is 
supreme  in  both  the  cities  of  Panama  and  Colon, 
although  in  other  respects  Federal  jurisdiction 
is  not  recognized. 

The  typhoid  danger  in  a  polluted  water  supply 
has  furnished  the  health  department  of  the  Isth- 
mus with  one  of  its  greatest  problems,  which 
has  also  resulted  in  one  of  its  greatest  victories. 
Where  as  in  the  past  Panama  has  quenched  its 
thirst  from  stagnant,  scum-covered  pools  and 
streams,  American  ingenuity,  under  the  direction 
of  the  sanitary  force,  has  now  completed  the  con- 
struction of  two  giant  reservoirs.  From  the  first  of 
these  at  Rio  Grande,  the  city  of  Panama  consumes 


The  Disease  Battle  of  the  Isthmus   1 49 

a  monthly  average  of  52,353,000  gallons,  and 
from  the  second  at  Mount  Hope,  Colon  and  the 
adjacent  territory  use  an  additional  607,298  gal- 
lons— ^water  whose  purity  has  passed  the  most 
severe  chemical  test,  and  whose  part  in  the  disease 
battle  of  the  Isthmus  can  scarcely  be  over- 
estimated. 

In  January,  1907,  18 13  cases  of  malaria  from 
31,851  men  were  treated  by  the  two  American 
hospitals  of  Panama  at  Ancon  and  Colon.  In 
January,  1908,  642  cases  were  registered  from 
43,851  men;  that  is,  with  a  force  of  12,000  more 
men,  only  about  one  third  the  number  of  malaria 
cases  were  recorded. 

For  January,  1907,  in  every  thousand  American 
employes,  there  was  a  sick  list  of  twenty-six  daily. 
For  January,  1908,  the  number  had  decreased  to 
nineteen  daily. 

Occupying  Commission  quarters  are  6300 
American  men,  women,  and  children.  Among 
these  there  was  only  one  death  during  the  month 
of  December,  1908,  which  would  give  an  annual 
rate  of  a  little  less  than  two  per  1000! 

Pneumonia  is  rated  as  a  leading  cold  weather 
illness.  Yet,  with  a  temperature  of  118  degrees, 
it  causes  more  deaths  than  any  other  disease  on 
the  Isthmus.     During  an  average  month,  it  will 


ISO     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

produce  twenty  fatalities,  and  strangely  enough 
not  more  than  one  of  these  as  a  rule  is  recorded 
among  the  white  population! 

The  bulk  of  the  mortality  is  confined  to  the 
negroes,  and  results  from  their  persistent  habit 
of  sleeping  in  their  clothes  after  a  perspiring  day's 
work, — ^at  least  that  portion  who  do  not  secure  a 
shelter  and  meals  from  the  cocoanut  tree,  spending 
the  night  under  its  branches  and  shaking  their 
breakfast  from  its  limbs  the  next  morning! 


CHAPTER  XI 


ROOSEVELT  AT  PANAMA 


IT  was  Shanton  who  cried,  with  the  soldier's 
^  enthusiasm  for  the  leader  who  has  dared  and 
won — and  won  his  heart  with  the  victory — 

*'This  is  Roosevelt's  Canal.  We  are  digging 
it  for  him!" 

There  you  have  it, — the  real  dynamite  which 
is  blasting  through  the  jungle  and  mountain.  Not 
the  deadly  black  powder' — one  thousand  tons  of 
which  goes  up  in  smoke  at  Panama  every  six 
months — but  the  spirit  of  that  man,  with  the  big 
hand  and  the  big  brain  and  the  big  personality, 
twenty-five  hundred  miles  away. 

You  can't  escape  it.  It  dominates  the  Canal 
Zone  as  completely  as  the  contempt  for  the 
French  or  the  antipathy  to  the  mosquito. 

Mr.  Roosevelt  has  been  more  than  President 
of  the  United  States — down  at  Panama.  He  is 
the  popular  idol. 

The  men  at  the  Canal  are  scoffing  at  the  puzzled 


152      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

gropings  in  the  maze  of  the  Roosevelt  future. 
They  have  definitely  settled  the  problem  as  to 
what  to  do  with  the  President. 

Shanton  glanced  up  from  the  inspection  of  his 
rifle  with  a  stare  at  the  probing  query  I  framed. 

*'Now  that  Mr.  Roosevelt  is  through  with  the 
White  House  and  the  Canal, — what?" 

*'Eh?"    He  bit  the  word  half  through. 

I  shied  a  stick  at  the  reconnoitring  head  of  a 
green  lizard  in  the  bushes,  as  I  repeated  the 
question. 

Shanton  studied  the  query  and  the  band  of  his 
big  Stetson  hat  a  full  moment  before  he  essayed 
an  answer.  He  was  twirHng  the  hat  slowly  about 
his  fingers  as  he  fashioned  his  words,  removing 
his  pipe  the  better  to  give  emphasis: 

"I  don't  see  any  question  there.  Mr.  Roosevelt 
is  not  going  to  get  through  with  the  Canal!  " 

The  silence  of  the  jungle  fell  again  and  he  raised 
himself  to  his  feet  before  he  continued: 

**The  President  can't  leave  the  Canal  now, 
man!  He  can't  leave  us  down  here,  with  the 
work  half  done.  He  has  given  us  all  our  enthusi- 
asm and  interest  in  the  job.  He  kept  us  at  it  in 
the  old  days  when  the  fever  was  gnawing  us  and 
the  newspapers  at  home  were  picking  us  to  pieces. 
And  he  's  keeping  us  on  the  job  now,  when  the 


Roosevelt  at  Panama  153 

men  who  have  done  the  things  that  count  are 
being  offered  bigger  money  and  the  chances  of 
their  Hves  to  quit.  Some  of  us  have  left,  but" — 
Shanton  ran  the  barrel  of  his  Marlin  softly  through 
his  hands — "more  of  us  have  stayed,  because  it 
was  Roosevelt  who  was  bossing  the  job!" 

Shanton  leaned  his  rifle  against  a  palm  tree, 
slowly  doubled  his  right  fist,  and  brought  it  down 
into  his  left  palm  with  a  smack  that  caused  a 
dozing  Indian  to  roll  over  into  the  mud. 

"This  Canal  is  the  biggest  contract  of  brains 
and  muscle  and  money  that  has  ever  been  rammed 
down  the  world's  throat!  Do  you  mean  to  say 
that  the  President,  who  has  been  the  man  behind 
it  from  the  first,  can  leave  it  before  it  is  finished?" 

I  slipped  a  quiet  sentence  into  the  argument. 

"Do  you  forget  the  end  of  his  term?" 

Shanton  glared. 

"Panama  needs  Roosevelt, — ^whether  he  is  in 
the  White  House  or  out  of  it.  And  Panama  is 
going  to  have  him, — as  President  if  we  can,  but  as 
boss,  whether  or  no!" 

Secretary  Joseph  Bucklin  Bishop  of  the  Canal 
Commission — and  personal  representative  of  the 
President  at  Panama — leaned  back  in  his  swivel 
chair  in  his  cool,  inviting  office  at  the  Hotel  TivoH 
at  Ancon,  pressed  his  hands  together,  tip  to  tip. 


154     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

and  scrutinized  the  ceiling,  as  he  pondered  my 
query  as  to  Roosevelt  at  the  Canal,  in  the  present, 
— and  future. 

"It  would  be  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the 
President  regards  the  Panama  Canal  as  the  great- 
est single  feature  of  his  administration,"  said  Mr. 
Bishop  as  his  eyes  descended  from  the  ceiling  to 
mine.  "Apart  from  the  public  interest  in  the 
project,  I  think  that  Mr.  Roosevelt  feels  the  keen- 
est personal  interest  of  his  career  in  its  success. 

"It  is  just  such  a  campaign  against  odds — 
the  odds  of  nature — that  would  most  appeal  to 
him.  It  was  the  battle  of  the  great  out-of-doors 
with  which  he  rubbed  elbows  when  he  was 
down  here  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  and  he  sniffed 
its  spirit  and  plunged  into  its  thick  like  a  veteran 
war-horse. 

"From  the  steam- shovel  gangs  upward,  it  was 
the  men  of  the  strenuous  life  that  he  met,  who 
knew  him  and  admired  him  because  of  his  own 
strenuous  life.  We  call  them  '  T.  T.  's'  down  here, 
*  Tropical  Tramps,'  because  they  have  dared 
death  from  one  end  of  the  tropics  to  the  other. 
Mr.  Roosevelt  is  an  ideal  after  their  own  hearts, — 
their  tanned  cheeks  and  steel  muscles  and  frank, 
straight  eyes  caught  him  from  the  start.  I  don't 
believe  that  the  Roosevelt  smile  once  left  his 


^^fe       •'      "iiw^^pB^H 

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t'b 

KP|r 

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H1k^»  "^^^""lA^E^^H 

IHB»f*?,.J^y    /JI)^B^a^HI| 

Roosevelt  at  Panama  155 

face  from  the  moment  he  stepped  off  the  train  at 
Panama  until  the  gang-plank  of  his  steamer  was 
raised  at  Colon. 

**The  President  sent  me  on  two  weeks  ahead 
for  photographs  to  illustrate  his  special  mes- 
sage. 

"  *I  want  pictures  of  everything  and  every  place 
I  am  to  see,'  he  told  me,  'pictures  that  will  show 
something,  and  mean  something/ 

'* I  began  my  mission  with  enthusiasm,  and  in 
my  eagerness  scoffed  at  the  Panamanian  custom 
of  a  two  hours '  siesta  in  the  heat  of  the  day  as  a 
waste  of  valuable  time. 

'"Pack  up  some  sandwiches,'  I  directed  my 
guide,  'and  we  need  not  stop  for  luncheon.' 

"At  the  end  of  the  second  day,  I  was  in  a  com- 
plete collapse.  With  this  experience  in  mind,  I 
tried  to  slip  a  timely  caution  to  the  President 
when  he  arrived. 

"But  he  laughed  away  the  warning,  squared 
back  his  shoulders,  and  worked  fifteen  hours  a 
day  during  his  visit!  Seasoned  residents  were 
dazed.  Even  the  hardiest  of  the  old-timers  di- 
gested his  activities  as  something  uncanny.  Mr. 
Roosevelt  is  the  only  man  I  know  who  has 
dared  and  conquered  the  Panamanian  climate!" 

Mr.   Bishop   drew   a  deep   breath  and   a  box 


156     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

of  cigars,  with  a  high-sounding  label,  toward 
him.    He  offered  me  a  selection,  with  comments. 

"The  best  brand  of  Havana  make, — for  this 
country,"  he  explained,  as  he  tapped  one  of  the 
fat  brown  rolls  with  his  forefinger.  ''Take  these 
to  the  States  and  they  would  lose  their  flavor 
at  once,  even  if  they  did  n't  lose  their  cost- tag. 
Bring  American  tobacco  down  here,  and  the  same 
rule  applies  vice  versa.  I  once  carried  a  box  of 
cigars  from  New  York  as  a  present  to  Governor 
Magoon  of  Cuba,  and  invested  therein  about  three 
times  the  sum  I  expend  for  my  tobacco.  When 
the  Governor  opened  the  box,  and  we  sat  down 
for  a  smoke,  I  was  wearing  a  smile  of  the  pleas - 
antest  anticipation.  Mr.  Magoon  lighted  his  ci- 
gar, puffed  slowly  for  a  moment  or  so,  and  then 
he  turned  it  around  with  a  puzzled  frown,  and 
began  again.  I  followed  his  example,  and  was 
examining  my  cigar  with  the  same  bewilderment, 
when  we  both  glanced  up  and  our  eyes  met. 

"Say,  Bishop,"  said  the  Governor  delicately, 
"where  did  you  get  these  — — things?" 

"That  was  the  reception  which  the  finest  New 
York  tobacco  met — in  the  tropics.  Tobacco, 
unlike  the  prophet,  is  best  appreciated  at  home!" 

Under  the  stimulant  of  his  cigar,  Mr.  Bishop 
gracefully  tacked  back  to  the  point  of  discussion. 


Roosevelt  at  Panama  157 

''The  President  is  constantly  surprising  me 
by  his  knowledge  of  the  minor  details  of  the  Canal 
which  even  the  men  on  the  job  would  have  to  refer 
to  the  file  cases  to  answer.  He  has  at  his  fingers ' 
tips  the  scale  of  wages  for  every  department  on  the 
Isthmus,  the  amount  of  supplies  which  the  com- 
missary should  use  in  a  month  or  a  week,  and  the 
effect  the  weather  should  have  on  the  record  of 
the  average  steam-shovel  or  blasting  gang. 

"The  men  down  here  even  say  that  the  Presi- 
dent would  discharge  by  cable  the  person  who 
interfered  with  the  progress  of  a  dirt  train!" 

Mr.  Bishop  pushed  across  to  me  the  copies  of 
two  cablegrams  which  were  to  form  the  basis  of 
a  story.     I  give  the  cablegrams  first —     ■ 

"CuLEBRA,  Sept.  4,   1907. 
"President  Roosevelt, 

*'  Oyster  Bay,  New  York. 

'*  August  excavation  from  the  Canal  prism,  by 
steam  shovels  and  dredges,  1,274,404  cubic  yards. 
By  steam  shovels,  916,950  cubic  yards,  as  follows: 
Culebra,  786,866  cubic  yards;  Gatum,  105,223  cubic 
yards;  Mindi,  Chagres,  La  Boca,  aggregate,  24,861 
cubic  yards.  By  dredging,  357,454  cubic  yards,  as 
follows:  Colon  division,  189,170  cubic  yards;  La  Boca 
division,  168,284  cubic  yards. 

"This  exceeds  all  previous  United  States  records. 


158     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Highest  preceding  total  for  the  Canal  prism  was  i  jOsSj- 
yyd  cubic  yards  for  July.     Rainfall,  11.89  inches. 

(Signed)     ''Goethals." 

"  Oyster  Bay,  N.  Y.,  Sept.  5. 

**  GOETHALS, 

"  Culebra. 
"  I  heartily  congratulate  you  and  all  the  men  on 
the  Canal  for  extraordinary  showing  you  have  made 
during  the  month  of  August.  As  this  is  the  height  of 
the  rainy  season,  I  had  not  for  a  moment  supposed 
that  you  would  be  able  to  keep  up  your  already  big 
record  of  work  done,  and  I  am  as  surprised  as  I  am 
pleased  that  you  should  have  surpassed  it. 

(Signed)     "Theodore  Roosevelt." 

"The  President's  message  was  read  aloud  to  a 
blasting  gang  at  Culebra,"  supplemented  Secre- 
tary Bishop,  "one  of  those  aggregations  of  varied 
nationalities,  which  include  the  men  of  the  'Seven 
Seas'  and  the  countries  beyond. 

''There  was  one  man  in  the  number — a  moun- 
tain of  bone  and  muscle — who  received  the  EngHsh 
language  much  as  sand  trickles  through  a  sieve. 
He  asked  that  the  cablegram  be  reread,  listening 
the  while  with  bent  head.  Suddenly,  he  looked 
up  with  a  great  smile  flooding  his  face,  as  he  burst 
out, — 


Roosevelt  at  Panama  159 

**  'Well,  if  it's  ze  cubic  that  he  wants,  then  we 
will  give  him  ze  cubic!"* 

Mr.  Bishop  drove  home  his  point  with  the  one 
sentence, 

"Such  is  the  spirit  of  Roosevelt  at  Panama!" 

*'And  the  elimination  of  the  third  term?" 
I  ventured.  "What  will  be  its  effect  at  the 
Isthmus?" 

"It  need  not  have  any!"  was  the  grave  reply. 
"The  American  people  need  Roosevelt  at  the 
White  House;  also,  they  need  him  at  Panama. 
It  is  not  alone  because  he  is  President  that  he  has 
made  a  success  of  the  Canal.  It  is  because  he  is 
Roosevelt!  And  he  will  be  the  same  Roosevelt 
in  public  or  private  life. 

"With  all  of  the  men  who  have  come  and  gone 
at  Panama,  the  President  has  been  always  the 
central  figure.  He  has  begun  the  Canal, — ^has 
brought  it  through  the  crisis  of  its  early  obstacles. 
Why  should  he  not  complete  it?" 

"As  a  resident  of  Panama  or  Washington?" 
I  queried. 

"Either  or  both,"  was  the  prompt  rejoinder. 
"The  place  of  his  residence  would  be  a  minor 
feature. 

"And, — Panama  is  no  longer  the  edge  of  no- 
where.   It  has  come  to  be  the  centre  of  a  good, 


i6o     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

big  somewhere.  The  man  who  comes  down 
here  is  not  leaving  for  a  camping-out  expe- 
dition!" 

In  cold-blooded  figures,  as  separated  from  the 
hot-blooded  eulogies  of  admirers,  just  how  is  the 
Roosevelt  spirit  at  Panama  to  be  reckoned  ?  What 
manner  of  foundation  do  statistics  build  for  this 
cyclone-tribute  to  the  President,  which  is  sweep- 
ing the  neck  of  the  Continent?  What  has  Roose- 
velt done  at  the  Canal  f  Not  what  men  say  he  has 
done. 

For  answer,  I  am  going  to  burrow  into  the  re- 
cords of  the  engineer  and  shake  the  dust  of  the 
file  case  from  the  most  startling  array  of  figures 
ever  pigeon-holed  in  the  history  of  the  Panama 
Canal. 

Grouped  together,  they  form  the  magic 
story  of  the  steam  shovel — the  giant  machine 
which  is  crunching  through  mountains  and 
under  boulders,  whose  iron  teeth  are  tearing 
and  rending  and  crushing  their  wizard-path 
from  ocean  to  ocean — the  machine  which  is 
nothing  but  a  great,  ungainly,  useless  mass  of 
rusty  metal  without  the  spirit  of  the  pigmy 
Man  behind  it. 

It  is  the  steam  shovel  which  has  made  the 
Panama    Canal  possible;  it  is  the  men  of    the 


Roosevelt  at  Panama  i6i 

steam  shovel  who  are  giving  mechanical  experts 
to-day  the  greatest  puzzle  of  the  Isthmus. 

In  1906,  the  maximum  capacity  of  the  steam 
shovel — and  this  reached  apparently  by  the  most 
vigorous  efforts  possible — ^was  measured  at  363 
cubic  yards  per  working  day.  In  1909,  the  same 
shovel  and  the  same  workmen,  confronted  by  the 
same  conditions,  are  increasing  this  record  to  1000 
cubic  yards.    How? 

Two  years  ago  the  maximum  canal  excavation 
for  the  month  was  placed  at  1,000,000  cubic 
yards.  To-day,  this  output  has  been  trebled, 
so  that  a  record  of  3,000,000  cubic  yards  has 
been  reached  on  two  occasions  during  the 
summer  of  1908.  What  is  the  secret  of  this 
amazing  stride? 

The  steam  shovel  does  not  have  more  or  better 
improvements,  the  obstacles  to  be  confronted  are 
just  as  numerous  and  just  as  stubborn,  the  ground 
is  just  as  unyielding  and  just  as  rocky.  What 
then  is  the  reason  ? 

Experts,  failing  to  find  explanation  in  the  ma- 
chinery or  the  soil,  have  fallen  back  by  process 
of  elimination  to  the  workmen.  And  at  once 
light  floods  the  problem  and  throws  into  a  clear- 
cut  relief  a  fourth  feature. 

Against  the  wall  of  the  Panama  jungle,  the 


i62     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

investigator  sees  the  bold,  forceful  name  of  Roose- 
velt. The  men  on  the  Isthmus  to  accomplish  a 
record,  that  has  brought  the  engineering  world 
into  the  sharpest  attention,  have  been  animated 
by  what, — ^whom? 

The  student's  eye  and  pencil  pause  at  those 
Canal  statistics  which  were  returned  in  the  latter 
part  of  1906.  Opposite  them  in  Panamanian 
history  is  the  visit  to  the  Isthmus  with  which 
President  Roosevelt  electrified  the  American 
people.  From  that  date,  the  astonishing  in- 
crease in  the  Canal  excavation  began  to  assert 
itself.  Records  which  had  been  deemed  of  top- 
notch  rank  previous  to  the  President's  visit 
were  smashed  like  egg-shells  a  few  months 
afterward  1 

A  man  had  come  to  Panama,  and  mingled  among 
the  men  of  the  Isthmus  for  a  span  of  hours,  and 
it  was  as  though  a  monster  electric  battery  had 
galvanized  the  life  of  the  jungle. 

Call  it  what  you  will,  define  it  as  you  will,  this 
is  the  Roosevelt  spirit  at  the  Canal, — mystifying, 
magnifying. 

The  sledge-hammer  testimony  of  these  sharp- 
spiked  figures  of  Panama,  which  proves  even  while 
it  does  not  explain  the  point,  I  submit  to  you 
verbatim : 


Roosevelt  at  Panama 


163 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  STEAM  SHOVEL 
CENTRAL  DIVISION 


CULEBRA  CUT 


1" 

1%^ 

.S 

Period 

0  >^ 

1906 

January 

12.83 

26 

363 

9-430 

1. 19 

February 

12.48 

23 

587 

13-494 

0.64 

March 

12.37 

27 

716 

19-355 

1.34 

April 

12.33 

24 

720 

17.289 

8.43 

May 

12.41 

27 

581 

15.684 

7-25 

^une 
'uly 

14.81 

26 

539 

14.026 

8.94 

123 

16.64 

25 

378 

9-441 

20.26 

127 

August 

16.93 

27 

536 

14.461 

12.97 

132 

September 

21.33 

24 

568 

13.664 

6.62 

130 

October 

22.67 

27 

S2>2 

14.373 

8.46 

128 

November 

20.46 

24 

459 

10.833 

19.19 

120 

December 

22.68 

25 

491 

12.267 

9.09 

108 

1907 

January 
February 

31.04 

26 

702 

18.248 

0.00 

104 

39-87 

23 

674 

15.966 

0.49 

108 

March 

43.88 

25 

741 

18.530 

0.08 

105 

April 

44.12 

26 

765 

19.884 

0.04 

no 

May 

31.70 

26 

^Z2> 

21.674 

7-45 

118 

June 
July 

38.28 

25 

651 

16.266 

14.74 

118 

43-38 

26 

680 

17.670 

9.42 

118 

August 

39-70 

27 

729 

19.680 

II. 81 

120 

September 

38.50 

24 

811 

19.468 

11.38 

123 

October 

37-63 

27 

813 

21.963 

15-27 

123 

November 

41.88 

24 

784 

18.818 

6.91 

123 

December 

42.72 

25 

965 

24.113 

2.30 

124 

1908 

January 
February 

43-42 

26 

1.084 

28.177 

0.91 

125 

43 

67 

24 

1. 186 

28.475 

O.OI 

124 

March 

42 

19 

26 

1. 171 

30.451 

0.13 

125 

April 

41 

28 

25 

1.202 

30.031 

1.67 

127 

May 

41 

56 

25 

918 

22  .948 

12.63 

129 

June 

42 

92 

26 

I. on 

26.281 

8.76 

126 

July 

52 

57 

26 

1. 071 

27.848 

T-Z'^Z 

121 

August 

52 

58 

26 

1. 122 

29. 184 

7-74 

1 64     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 


TOTAL  EXCAVATION.  CENTRAL  DIVISION  (CULEBRA  CUT) 


Months 

1904 

1905 

1906 

1907 

1           1908 

January 
February- 

70,650 

120,990 

566,750 

1,227,022 

75,200 

168,410 

639,112 

1,248,265 

March 

132,840 

239,178 

815,270 

1,290,885 

^P^^ 

127,749 

213,177 

179,527 

1,242,574 

May 

27,556 

75,935 

196,209 

690,365 

960,840 

June 

32,551 

76,90s 

212,623 

624,586 

1,134,032 

July 

31,599 

78,570 

159,789 

770,570 

1,121,325 

August 

35,056 

49,210 

244,823 

786,866 

1,171,927 

September 

25,220 

44,085 

291,452 

753,468 

October 

19,695 

52,940 

327,009 

834,499 

November 

28,860 

60,540 

221,642 

790,632 

December 

42,935 

70,630 

307,689 

1,025,485 

Totals 

243.472 

914,254 

2,702,991 

9,177,130 

9,396,870 

Total  to  September  i,  1908 — 22,434,717  cubic  yards. 

FRENCH  AND  AMERICAN  RECORDS 
Highest  elevation  on  new  centre  line  of  Canal  be- 
fore excavation  began  by  the  French : 

At  Culebra 312  feet. 

At  Bas  Obispo 233     '* 

Greatest  depth  of  excavation  by  the  French : 

On  I.  C.  C.  axis — At  Culebra 161      " 

At  Bas  Obispo 148     " 

Greatest  centre-line  depth  remaining  to  be  excava- 
ted when  Americans  took  control  in  order  to 
reach  the  bottom  of  an  8 5 -foot  level  canal: 

At  Culebra — at  same  point  as  before  ....      1 1 1      " 
At  barrier  on  Contractor's  Hill,  about.  .      140     " 

At  Bas  Obispo 45     " 

Total  excavation  by  the  French  at  all  points  and         Cubic  Yds. 

including  diversion  channel,  about 81,548,000 

Amount  excavated  under  American  control  to 
September  i,  1908: 

In  Culebra  Cut 22,548,000 

By  steam  shovels 29,872,308 

By  dredges 17,475,123 

Total  by  steam  shovels  and  dredges,  entire  Canal — 47,347,431 


Roosevelt  at  Panama  165 

Peters,  the  chauffeur,  halted  Colonel  Goethals's 
railroad  motor  car  in  the  swirling  smoke  clouds 
of  the  Culebra  Cut,  and  I  clambered  into  the  dirt 
train,  under  a  vomiting  steam  shovel. 

The  shirtless  man,  guiding  the  dipper,  nodded 
across  at  me,  and  a  moment  later,  as  a  lull  came 
in  the  plunges  of  the  great  iron  scoop,  found  voice 
to  speak. 

The  President's  visit  opened  the  chat  like  a 
grain  of  corn  popping. 

"Over  there,"  said  my  friend  of  the  steam 
shovel,  pointing  indefinitely  across  toward  Gold 
Hill,  "a  section  gang  had  been  getting  ready  for 
days  to  welcome  Mr.  Roosevelt.  Not  one  of  the 
men  could  speak  English,  but  they  had  persuaded 
some  one  to  paint  a  rough  canvas  sign  for 
them. 

''When  the  President's  special  car  steamed 
through  the  Cut,  the  sign  was  suspended  squarely 
before  his  eyes,  with  the  inscription, 

"We  will  help  you ! " 

*'It  was  a  rude  sprawling  sentence,  done  by  a 
rough  charcoal  artist  on  a  dirty,  greasy  back- 
ground, but  I  believe  that  the  President  shook 
hands  with  every  man  in  that  gang! " 

Shanton  tells  me  that  Mr.  Roosevelt  has  one 
engagement  ahead  of  him  down  at  Panama,  which 


i66     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

he  is  bound  to  fill.  His  eyes  twinkle  as  he  de- 
scribes it  in  this  wise: 

"  The  President  has  hunted  from  one  end  of  the 
country  to  the  other,  but  he  has  never  yet  gone 
after  a  Panama  'gator.  And  we  whetted  his  ap- 
petite for  the  sport  during  his  visit,  until  he  in- 
sisted on  our  taking  him  for  a  half-day's  shooting 
down  the  Pacific  Coast. 

"He  even  planned  to  go  on  board  the  govern- 
ment scow  the  night  before  and  sleep,  so  that  we 
could  get  an  early  start,  but  at  the  last  moment 
his  work  accumulated,  so  that  we  had  to  give  up 
the  excursion.  The  President  was  the  most  disap- 
pointed man  of  the  party. 

"Never  mind,  I'm  coming  back  after  those 
'gators,  Shanton ! '    he  said  as  he  left. 

"And  he  will,  too!"  Shanton  finished,  confi- 
dently. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  WOMEN  OF  PANAMA 

TTHERE  was  loudly  expressed  sympathy  for 
-■-  Mrs.  Smith  all  along  the  block  when  the 
awestruck  neighbors  learned  that  she  was  going 
to  Panama.  She  was  such  a  shy  little  creature, 
you  know,  hardly  reaching  to  her  husband's 
shoulder,  and  married  only  ten  months!  The 
idea  of  whisking  her  off  to  a  jungle  where  snakes 
crawled  into  your  bed,  and  alligators  lurked 
aroimd  your  back  door,  and  you  had  to  eat  canned 
food  or  cocoanuts ! 

' '  They  tell  me  that  the  snakes  in  Panama  are 
twenty  feet  long,"  interposed  Mrs.  White  with 
proper  dramatic  force. 

**And  they  do  say  that  the  poor  men  who  are 
digging  the  Canal  have  to  sleep  in  the  mud," 
chimed  in  Mrs.  Stevens's  shrill  falsetto. 

*'They  may  think  themselves  lucky  at  that," 
contributed  Mrs.  Black  gloomily.     "My  husband 

167 


1 68      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

says  that  mosquitoes  eat  people  alive  down 
there!" 

"Are  you  talking  about  the  Smiths?"  put 
in  a  new  arrival.  ''Isn't  it  terrible  about  their 
going  to  Africa?" 

"You  mean  Panama,  don't  you?"  corrected 
Mrs.  White. 

The  other  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Oh,  it's 
all  the  same.  Anyway  I  guess  Panama  is  the 
worst  of  the  two!" 

One  may  hear  dozens  of  such  expressions. 
The  American  people  are  digging  the  greatest 
waterway  in  history  at  Panama,  and  yet  to  our 
average  citizen  Panama  seems  as  vague  and  as 
far  away  as  Timbuctoo.  His  impression  of  the 
Isthmus  is  that  of  a  vast  swamp  of  black  mud 
or  a  thick  jimgle  of  poisonous  foliage — with  the 
civilization  of  the  swamp  or  the  jungle.  He 
views  the  men  departing  for  the  Panama  Canal 
as  our  grandfathers  viewed  the  California  gold- 
seekers  leaving  for  the  long  trip  across  the  west- 
em  plains. 

Against  this  background  he  is  apt  to  be  dazed 
by  the  statements  that  the  women  of  Panama 
have  secured  grand  opera  and  have  organized 
a  chain  of  flourishing  literary  clubs  and  maintain 
a  social  life  almost  as  modern  and  complete  as 


The  Women  of  Panama  169 

that  of  his  own  city.  The  woman  who  accom- 
panies her  husband  to  the  Canal  may  view  the 
prospect  ahead  as  a  long  stretch  of  frontier  hard- 
ship and  sacrifice,  and  she  may  leave  her  new 
gowns  and  bonnets  at  home.  The  next  letter 
to  "the  States"  however  will  contain  an  urgent 
request  that  the  aforesaid  gowns  and  bonnets 
be  shipped  without  delay.  She  has  foimd  that 
the  women  of  Panama  follow  the  prevailing 
styles  almost  as  closely  and  have  almost  as  many 
opportunities  of  exhibiting  them  as  the  women 
at  home. 

True,  within  half  a  mile  or  less  of  their  back 
doors  is  a  jungle  which  has  defied  civilization 
for  nearly  four  centuries.  True,  they  must  take 
quinine  with  their  breakfast  food  to  escape  the 
fever  mists  and  must  wage  a  constant  war  with 
the  little  tropical  ants  to  save  their  parlor  furni- 
ture. Also  they  see  monkeys  and  parrots  and 
lizards  much  oftener  than  horses  and  mules, 
and  must  substitute  cocoanuts  for  apples  and 
palm  trees  for  maples,  and  must  accustom  them- 
selves to  an  average  temperature  of  something 
over  one  htmdred  degrees.  These  are  the  facts 
of  Nature.  But  the  women  of  Panama  have 
risen  above  them. 

They  have  faced  the  jungle  unflinchingly  and 


I70     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

in  its  isolation  have  seen  both  their  greatest 
hardship  and  their  greatest  opportunity.  They 
have  combated  the  wilderness  with  the  social, 
literary,  and  musical  activities  which  it  would 
seem  to  deny  them  the  most  rigorously. 

A  modem  woman's  club  in  the  jungle  may 
appear  impossible.  The  women  of  Panama  have 
shown  that  not  only  is  one  club  possible  but  more 
than  a  dozen.  Grand  Opera  may  appear  as 
far  removed  from  the  wilderness  as  Caruso  is 
from  the  Hottentot  but  with  other  co-operation 
the  women  of  Panama  have  secured  it. 

Mrs.  Graham's  card  party  or  Mrs.  Jones's 
musicale  or  Mrs.  Smith's  reception  are  society 
items  which  may  seem  as  incongruous  in  the 
Panama  jungle  as  an  alligator  on  Broadway, 
but  the  visitor  to  the  Isthmus  will  assure  you 
that  they  are  almost  as  significant  a  part  of  life 
in  the  Canal  Zone  as  the  new  records  of  the  steam 
shovels  in  the  Culebra  Cut. 

The  beautiful  Government  hotel,  "theTivoli, "  is 
large  enough  and  modern  enough  to  permit  of  the 
most  elaborate  receptions.  Built  on  the  eleva- 
tion of  Ancon  overlooking  the  city  of  Panama  and 
the  Pacific,  its  site  is  one  of  the  most  ideal  on  the 
Isthmus  and  the  architects  in  charge  of  both  the 
exterior  and  interior  plans  have  endeavored  to  pro- 


The  Women  of  Panama  171 

duce  a  building  worthy  of  the  natural  advantages. 
At  a  casual  glance,  the  Tivoli  might  be  a  popular 
hostelry  located  at  any  typical  Altantic  watering 
place.  From  the  lobby  particularly  there  is 
nothing  to  suggest  either  the  Panama  jungle  or 
the  Panama  Canal.  During  my  visit,  there  were 
private  dinner  parties  every  night  and  some  of 
them  of  quite  a  formal  character.  Indeed  the 
dining-room  showed  almost  as  many  men  in 
conventional  evening  clothes  as  one  would  find 
at  any  representative  hotel  of  *'the  States." 
A  majority  of  the  officials  of  the  Canal  have 
endorsed  the  Panamanian  custom  of  white  duck 
instead  of  formal  black  for  after-dinner  functions 
but  against  the  background  of  glistening  silver 
and  gleaming  lights  this  innovation  increases 
rather  than  decreases  the  social  atmosphere. 

For  the  more  elaborate  receptions  at  the 
Tivoli  a  special  train  is  often  scheduled  from 
Panama  to  Culebra  in  the  early  morning,  drop- 
ping the  guests  at  the  various  points  along  the 
line.  The  only  feature  that  brings  home  the 
proximity  of  the  wilderness  is  the  fact  that  many 
persons  in  order  to  reach  the  city  of  Panama 
for  evening  entertainments  are  obliged  to  make 
the  trip  in  the  baggage  car  of  a  freight  train, 
finding   seats   on   upturned   barrels     and   boxes. 


172     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Such  a  journey  in  evening  dress  is  not  the  most 
alluring  prospect — particularly  after  the  veteran 
railroader  enlightens  you  as  to  the  character 
of  the  Panama  freight  train — but  the  reception 
committee  does  put  forth  an  honest  effort  to 
give  you  sufficient  enjoyment  at  the  end  to  atone 
for  your  bruised  pride  and  perhaps  your  bruised 
body.  If  riding  to  a  ball  in  a  box  car  is  descend- 
ing to  the  primitive,  the  ball  itself  ascends  to 
the  heights  of  fashionable  society.  Panama, 
that  is  American  Panama,  will  surprise  the  visi- 
tor quite  as  thoroughly  at  the  Tivoli  ballroom 
as  at  the  Culebra  Cut. 

It  is  true  that  the  social  activities  of  the  Tivoli 
from  the  standpoint  of  dollars  and  cents  are 
beyond  most  of  the  women  of  Panama.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  a  comparatively  small  per  cent, 
can  afford  the  financial  outlay  which  they  de- 
mand. Admitting  that  Panama  society  is  demo- 
cratic— the  officers  of  the  leading  club  ranging 
from  Colonel  Goethals  to  a  department  clerk — 
the  majority  of  the  families  of  the  Canal  must 
confine  their  amusement  to  less  expensive  chan- 
nels. 

To  find  the  real  social  side  of  the  Isthmus, 
therefore,  we  must  leave  the  rotunda  of  the  Tivoli 
and  journey  out  to  the   straggling  settlements 


The  Women  of  Panama  173 

dotting  the  line  of  the  Panama  Railroad.  And 
we  must  choose  one  of  the  afternoons  when  most 
of  the  women 's  clubs  are  in  session. 

Perhaps  our  route  has  taken  us  to  Gorgona, 
and  our  visit  has  fallen  on  the  day  when  the 
Woman's  Club  is  deep  in  a  discussion  of  the 
approaching  Christmas  festivities.  The  Y.M.C.A., 
the  Sunday-school  and  the  public  school  of  the 
village  have  been  invited  to  co-operate  with  the 
club  in  the  preparation  of  a  record-breaking  pro- 
gramme. They  have  all  accepted  the  suggestion 
and  we  find  the  women  entering  into  the  project 
with  a  heartiness  and  enthusiasm  which  laughs 
at  the  obstacles  of  frontier  civilization.  The  club 
is  determined  that  this  Christmas  in  the  jungle 
shall  be  a  memorable  one.  Home  may  be  two 
thousand  miles  away  but  the  women  can  create 
home  cheer  and  home  conforts  in  spite  of  this 
fact.    Listen  to  the  programme  they  are  planning. 

Of  course  the  children  of  the  village  must 
have  a  genuine  Christmas  entertainment  such 
as  they  have  always  known  at  home,  with  a 
Santa  Claus  and  sleigh-bells — even  if  the  ther- 
mometer is  registering  more  than  a  hundred 
degrees!  And  there  must  be  candies  and  oranges 
and  toys  in  Santa's  pack  if  the  Government 
steamer  has  to  make  a  special  trip  to  New  York 


174     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

for  this  purpose.  And  there  must  be  a  real 
Christmas  tree,  to  be  sure!  The  best  plan  will 
be  to  hold  an  old-fashioned  Christmas  Eve  cele- 
bration in  the  Y.M.C.A.  building.  Then  there 
.will  be  room  enough  and  welcome  enough  for 
everybody. 

Can  you  wonder  that  the  men  of  the  steam 
shovels  and  "dirt  trains"  are  smashing  world 
records  down  at  Panama,  with  women  like  these 
to  inspire  them  ? 

There  is  no  Christmas  in  city  or  jungle  that 
is  complete  without  the  charitable  feature.  At 
home  we  give  our  surplus  money  and  clothes 
to  the  ragged  newsboys.  But,  you  say,  there 
are  no  newsboys  in  Panama?  Oh  yes,  there 
are,  and  just  as  ragged  and  just  as  needy  as  those 
of  New  York.  In  the  city  of  Panama,  there  are 
two  daily  papers  besides  those  of  Colon,  and  if 
they  are  delivered  by  little,  dark-skinned  ur- 
chins who  combine  the  blood  of  half  a  dozen 
nations  in  their  veins  and  sleep  under  a  palm 
tree  instead  of  in  a  frozen  ash-barrel,  the  same 
field  for  charity  exists — broader  perhaps  because 
it  has  been  so  long  neglected. 

The  Woman's  Club  of  Gorgona  has  these 
details  in  mind  when  the  report  of  its  philan- 
thropical  committee  is  called  for,  and  the  chair- 


The  Women  of  Panama  175 

man  announces  that  the  members  are  sewing 
hard  on  a  variety  of  garments  to  be  distributed 
to  the  newsboys  on  Christmas  day. 

Now  we  come  to  a  phase  of  charity  in  Panama 
peculiarly  unique.  Some  one  has  reminded  the 
Woman's  Club  of  the  leper  colony  at  Palo  Seco. 
Barred  from  friends,  home,  family,  the  unfor- 
tunate inmates  must  watch  the  approach  of  the 
great  holiday  with  bitter  emotions.  They  are 
cast  off  from  the  world  and  its  joys  and  pleas- 
ures. Who  more  in  need  of  Christmas  gifts  and 
Christmas  sympathy?  So  an  item  is  made  of 
the  Palo  Seco  lepers  in  the  list  of  holiday  prepara- 
tions and  the  Gorgona  women  turn  to  other 
angles  of  their  discussion. 

Before  we  leave  we  learn  that  their  organization 
includes  a  literary  department  which  is  pursuing 
an  excellent  course  of  study  in  Spanish ;  a  musical 
department  which  is  planning  a  programme  of 
classical  selections  in  the  near  future;  and  an 
historical  department  which  is  outlining  a  series 
of  papers  by  its  members  on  the  early  romance 
of  the  Isthmus. 

All  of  these  features,  mind  you,  in  the  heart 
of  an  unexplored  jungle !  This  is  how  the  women 
of  Panama  are  spending  the  long  days  when 
their    husbands    are    toiling    under    the    copper 


176     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

rays  of  the  sun  and  bringing  the  great  Canal  nearer 
and  nearer  completion. 

If  we  are  disposed  to  tarry  at  Gorgona  we 
might  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  Chorus 
Club  or  the  Girls'  Bowling  Club  or  the  Dramatic 
Club,  which  renders  four  or  five  really  excellent 
programmes  in  the  course  of  a  year.  But  we  re- 
call that  this  is  only  one  point  in  our  itinerary 
and  hasten  onward. 

We  chance  to  reach  Ancon  on  one  of  those 
two  days  when  the  Woman's  Club  is  holding 
its  Christmas  bazaar  and  find  ourselves  in  a 
prettily  decorated  Japanese  tea-room,  with  a 
confectionery  counter  adjoining  and  still  be- 
yond a  cleverly  arranged  apartment  where  are 
exhibited  children's  gifts  of  all  descriptions. 
We  are  rubbing  our  eyes  when  we  reach  the 
street  and  remember  that  we  are  in   Panama. 

We  might  increase  our  visits  to  Gatun,  Paraiso, 
Empire,  Cristobal,  La  Cascadas,  Pedro  Miguel, 
Culebra,  and  other  of  the  Canal  settlements  and 
in  all  of  them  find  the  women  organized  quite  as 
effectively  and  enthusiastically  as  at  the  points 
we  have  mentioned,  for  the  Panama  branch  of 
the  American  Federation  of  Women's  Clubs 
is  nothing  if  not  thorough  and  it  might  almost 
be  said  that  it  has  established  itself  wherever 


The  Women  of  Panama  177 

the  zigzagging  line  of  the  railroad  is  dotted  by 
a  handful  of  houses. 

To  the  personal  efforts  of  Miss  Gertrude  Weeks 
and  Miss  Helen  Boswell,  working  under  the 
auspices  of  the  American  Government,  much 
of  this  success  is  due.  It  required  not  only  a 
tremendous  amount  of  preliminary  labor  by 
pioneers  such  as  these  for  the  establishment  of 
a  chain  of  women's  clubs  in  a  tropical  jungle, 
but  it  has  needed  hard  and  constant  effort  to 
keep  the  chain  up  to  a  standard  of  real  efficiency. 
What  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  has  done  for  the  men  of 
Panama  the  Federation  of  Women's  Clubs  has 
done  for  the  women  of  Panama. 

The  success  of  the  Canal-builders  of  the  Isth- 
mus has  ever  depended  upon  the  success  of  the 
Civilization-builders.  The  French  stumbled  past 
this  fact  completely  and  devoted  their  energies 
entirely  to  the  mechanical  side  of  the  undertaking, 
forgetting  that  beneath  it  there  was  a  human 
side.  Whether  they  could  have  dug  the  Canal 
under  any  conditions  is  a  question,  but  it  is  cer- 
tain that  the  task  would  have  been  impossible 
on  their  principle  of  viewing  men  like  machinery. 
The  United  States  saw  their  error  and  escaped 
it  at  the  cost  of  being  denounced  for  gingerbread 
trimmings  and  a  useless  waste  of  public  money. 


178     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

The  cynic  laughs  at  the  women's  clubs  and  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  buildings,  forgetting  that  three  fourths 
of  the  Isthmus  is  a  jungle  and  that  when  the 
forty  thousand  men  in  its  heart  have  completed 
the  day's  work  they  have  still  four  or  five  or 
six  hours  they  must  pass — how?  And  with  the 
women  these  hours  are  multiplied  two  and  three 
times  until  they  stretch  out  to  a  long  day  there 
in  the  wilderness  with  home  thousands  of  miles 
away  and  the  dangers  of  the  jungle  always  at 
their  elbows. 

The  women's  clubs  may  be  denounced  as  a 
"fad"  but  through  them  the  Government  has 
found  one  of  its  most  powerful  channels  of  reach- 
ing and  inspiring  the  toiling  men  of  the  Canal. 
The  cheery  wife  at  the  front  door  braces  the 
weary  man  for  his  next  day's  work  as  all  of  the 
gold  of  the  nation  could  not  do — and  in  her  turn 
she  has  been  strengthened  for  her  battle  with 
hardship  and  solitude  and  discouragement,  and 
thus  enabled  to  renew  the  drooping  spirits  of 
the  family  circle,  by  two  paramount  factors. 

One  is  her  own  optimistic,  inspiring,  unselfish 
American  womanhood.  The  second  is  the  or- 
ganized club  and  social  life  which  allows  her  to 
forget  the  wilderness  at  her  back  door. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LIEUTENANT  ISAAC  C.    STRAIN — HERO 

T  1  ERE  is  the  story  of  the  man  who  dared  and 
^  ^  won  at  Panama  in  the  days  before  Colon 
had  outgrown  the  mud -village  period,  when  the 
Isthmus  was  called  ''Darien,"  and  hostile  Indians 
lurked  behind  the  palm  trees  with  drawn  bows 
and  little  poisonous  arrows.  In  all  of  the  grim 
history  of  the  Panama  jungle  there  can  be  found 
no  more  thrilling  example  of  man's  bravery  than 
the  story  of  the  American  naval  expedition  that 
made  the  first  survey  from  Caledonia  Bay  to 
Darien  harbor  under  the  leadership  of  Lieu- 
tenant Isaac  C.  Strain.  And  in  all  of  the  annals 
of  the  American  navy,  whether  of  peace  or  war, 
no  more  lion-hearted  character  stands  forth  than 
that  of  Lieutenant  Strain.  To  the  world' — even 
to  present-day  Panama — Strain  may  be  an  "im- 
known  celebrity,"  but  in  the  roll  of  the  world's 
heroes  who  have  confronted  their  duty  unflinch- 
ingly in  the  face  of  hardship,  privation,  death,  no 
name  is  more  vividly  underscored. 

179 


i8o      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

The  history  of  the  Strain  expedition  is  as 
dramatic  as  a  romance.  With  the  touch  of 
J.  Fenimore  Cooper  it  would  take  rank  as  one  of 
the  most  absorbing  tales  of  wilderness-adventure 
ever  written.  But  the  world  would  regard  it  as 
fiction  and  digest  it  as  such. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1854  that  the  Cyane 
dropped  anchor  in  Caledonia  Bay  and  Lieutenant 
Strain  and  his  party  of  twenty -seven  men  saw 
the  frowning  shores  and  vast  green  stretches  of 
foliage  behind  which' — ^how  many  miles  they  did 
not  knoW' — ^lay  the  harbor  of  Darien. 

Although  the  discovery  of  the  Pacific  had  taken 
place  nearly  four  hundred  years  previous,  an  ac- 
curate survey  had  never  been  made  of  the  winding 
land  belt  which  separated  it  from  the  Atlantic. 
The  Isthmus  of  Panama  was  as  unknown  to  the 
white  man  as  Central  Africa.  In  1849  an  Irish 
adventurer  had  annoimced  to  the  world  that  he 
had  traversed  the  Isthmus  repeatedly  and  that 
only  "three  or  four  miles  of  deep  cuttings  were 
necessary  to  make  a  practicable  ship  canal  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific."  Indeed,  a  book  was 
written  on  the  subject  and  something  of  a  world 
sensation  resulted.  A  company  of  English  capital- 
ists, aroused  to  action,  even  dispatched  to  the 
jungles  of  Darien  a  civil  engineer  by  the  name  of 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     i8i 

Grisborne,  with  instructions  to  verify  the  report. 
Just  how  far  he  penetrated  inland  will  never  be 
known  but  a  few  months  later  he  returned  to 
Europe  with  the  written  statement  that  *'it  was 
barely  thirty  miles  between  tides"  and  that 
the  "summit  level  of  the  Isthmus  was  only  150 
feet." 

Inflamed  by  the  announcement,  France, 
England,  New  Grenada,  and  the  United  States 
promptly  organized  a  series  of  expeditions  for  a 
thorough  survey  of  the  territory.  Of  the  ex- 
ploring parties,  however,  only  one  achieved  its 
mission.  This  was  the  band  of  pioneers  who 
flew  the  American  flag.  Their  itinerary  began 
at  a  point  on  the  shores  of  Caledonia  Bay  and 
ended  at  the  Gulf  of  Darien^ — a  path  which  had 
not  been  traversed  by  the  foot  of  a  white  man 
since  the  year  1788. 

There  were  those  in  plenty  who  had  attempted 
it,  for  even  then  the  tales  of  jungle-treasure  had 
thrown  a  magic  allurement  over  the  Panama 
wilderness,  but  none  of  the  gold-seekers  had  lived 
to  tell  the  tale.  Whether  they  had  met  death 
from  the  arrows  of  hostile  Indians,  whether  the 
poisonous  fever  of  the  Isthmus  had  crept  into 
their  veins,  or  whether  they  had  fallen  victims  to 
the  prowling  beasts  of  the  forest,  the  coast  settle- 


i82     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

ments  never  knew.  The  veterans  of  the  tropics 
shrugged  cynical  shoulders — ^and  gave  the  Panama 
jungle  a  wide  berth. 

This  was  the  wilderness  into  which  Strain  and 
his  gallant  party  plunged  on  the  morning  of 
January  twentieth.  The  band  was  equipped  with 
provisions,  calculated  to  last  for  ten  days,  if  used 
with  caution.  It  was  to  be  in  every  respect  an 
expedition  of  peace  so  far  as  was  practicable. 
Each  man  was  equipped  with  but  forty  rounds  of 
cartridges. 

From  the  outset  Strain  insisted  on  assuming 
the  heaviest  burdens  of  the  party  and  was  notice- 
able by  a  heavy  field-glass  swung  over  his 
shoulders.  Similar  expeditions  at  the  four  points 
of  the  compass  had  made  the  Lieutenant  not  only 
a  daring  but  an  experienced  woodsman.  Under 
his  outer  shirt  he  wore  a  second  shirt  of  linen — 
with  a  shrewd  remembrance  of  the  invaluable 
qualities  of  the  material  as  bandages  in  bullet 
wounds.  But  the  secret  of  the  linen  shirt  he 
kept  to  himself  imtil  it  was  called  into  use. 

The  earlier  route  of  the  party  followed  closely 
the  winding  banks  of  the  Caledonia  River.  Al- 
most from  the  beginning,  frequent  indications  of 
lurking  Indians  were  found.  During  the  second 
day's  march,  abandoned  native  huts  and  dugouts 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     183 

were  discovered,  with  every  indication  that  their 
owners  had  deserted  them  at  a  moment's  notice. 
To  a  man  of  Strain's  experience  these  facts  pointed 
unerringly  to  the  uncomfortable  conclusion  that 
the  Indians  meant  to  fight — and  fight  promptly. 

When  the  reader — snugly  established  in  his  arm- 
chair, I  hope — recalls  that  even  to-day  two  thirds 
of  the  Panama  wilderness  has  never  been  ex- 
plored, he  can  appreciate  the  gravity  of  Strain's 
position.  But  the  Lieutenant  was  not  a  man  to 
be  daunted.  If  he  examined  his  rifle  more 
closely,  he  pressed  onward  all  the  more  resolutely. 

To  make  matters  worse,  the  disagreeable  con- 
viction was  pressing  itself  upon  him  that  the  river 
route  he  had  mapped  out  was  impracticable. 
Before  the  party  towered  the  dark,  rocky  Cordil- 
leras. The  Americans  had  conjectured  that  the 
Caledonia  had  ploughed  a  channel  through  the 
mountains  and,  if  they  followed  it  far  enough, 
they  would  find  a  trail  blasted  by  Nature.  But 
even  to  inexperienced  eyes  it  was  becoming  plain 
that,  if  this  were  true,  the  route  was  barred  to  men. 

It  was  a  grave  step  to  plunge  from  the  banks 
of  the  river  into  the  heart  of  a  trackless  wilderness. 
But  when  Strain  gave  the  order  which  changed 
the  course  of  the  party,  there  was  not  a  murmur. 
Indeed  the  men  essayed  a  cheer.      They  were 


i84     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

soldiers  and  sailors  of  fortune,  who  had  looked 
upon  the  bright  face  of  danger  so  long  that  it 
had  blinded  them.  They  were  used  to  the  haz- 
ards of  the  enemy's  country  and  before  the  first 
day  of  their  new  route  had  drawn  to  a  sullen 
close  they  reaHzed  that  they  had  invaded  it. 

On  every  side  were  evidences  of  hostile  Indians. 
The  more  advanced  of  the  party  even  fancied 
that  they  could  see  dark,  stealthy  forms  in  the 
brush,  and  weapons,  which  until  now  had  been 
swung  carelessly  over  their  shoulders,  were 
abruptly  transferred  to  alert,  nervous  hands. 
The  evening  camp  was  pitched  in  a  circle  of 
restless  sentinels.  The  night  was  broken  with  a 
succession  of  muffled  alarms  and  twice  the  party 
sprang  from  their  blankets  to  repel  a  fancied 
attack.  Morning  broke  over  a  group  of  haggard 
faces.  The  menace  of  the  invisible  enemy  was 
wearing  even  on  nerves  that  had  survived  a  score 
of  open  battles. 

If  the  Indians  intended  to  attack,  why  the 
delay?  The  strength  of  the  Americans  surely 
was  apparent  to  the  roving  eyes  behind  the  dark 
fringe  of  trees.  It  was  this  last  thought  which 
brought  the  cold  sweat  to  Strain's  brow.  Was  it 
possible  that  the  savages  had  cut  ofE  their  retreat 
and  were  suspending  hostilities  because  their  ad- 


A   PANAMANIAN    "WASH    LADY 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C  Strain — Hero    185 

vance  was  bringing  them  nearer  to  the  Indian 
villages  and  so  to  the  heart  of  the  trap  they  had 
blindly  entered? 

For  another  day  and  night  the  situation  con- 
tinued without  a  change.  Strain  realized  that 
their  only  hope  was  in  a  straight  path  ahead  in 
spite  of  its  dubious  ending.  To  change  their 
course  or  to  attempt  a  retreat  would  be  to  invite 
instant  destruction. 

It  was  early  in  the  following  morning  that  the 
party  confronted  the  apparent  crisis  of  the  situa- 
tion. Directly  in  the  path  ahead  the  Americans 
saw  a  group  of  five  Indians  advancing  toward 
them  at  a  rapid  trot.  They  were  armed  to  the 
teeth,  and  Strain's  first  impulse  was  to  give  a 
quick  order  to  fire.  If  he  had  done  so,  it  is 
probable  that  not  one  of  the  expedition  would 
have  seen  another  sun  set. 

As  it  developed  later,  the  white  men  had  been 
between  two  hostile  war  parties  for  twelve  hours 
and  the  fact,  instead  of  proving  a  double  peril, 
was  really  their  salvation.  The  Indians  repre- 
sented two  tribes  between  whom  the  hatchet  had 
not  been  buried  for  a  generation.  The  presence 
of  the  Americans  had  kept  them  from  flying  at 
each  others'  throats,  and  the  spectre  of  the  feud 
had  saved  the  Americans  in  their  turn  from  a 


1 86     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

shower  of  arrows.  The  last  day's  march  had 
taken  the  expedition  out  of  the  territory  of  the 
first  tribe.  The  natives  now  advancing  toward 
them  hailed  from  the  coast  and  were  shrewd 
enough  to  see  that  their  profit  lay  not  in  attack 
but  in  friendship.  Undoubtedly  the  white  men 
would  be  willing  to  pay  a  high  price  for  guides. 
Probably  their  friends  also  would  be  grateful  and 
generous.  Why  not  earn  their  rewards  instead 
of  courting  their  vengeance? 

It  was  a  heartfelt  sigh  of  relief  that  Strain 
breathed  when  he  learned  the  Indians'  mission 
and  acceded  to  their  terms.  His  high  hopes, 
however,  were  doomed  to  a  bitter  collapse.  For 
two  days  their  progress  showed  no  discouraging 
feature.  On  the  second  evening  their  guides  met 
another  party  from  their  tribe  and  a  spirited 
conference  followed  in  their  native  tongue.  The 
Americans  never  learned  its  exact  details  but, 
at  its  conclusion,  the  attitude  of  the  Indians 
changed  completely.  Beginning  with  the  third 
morning  the  native  guides  maintained  a  pace  so 
sharp  that  it  was  only  with  the  utmost  effort  that 
the  white  men  could  keep  them  in  view.  Several 
of  the  party  already  were  beginning  to  yield  to 
exposure  and  fatigue,  and  when  the  evening  halt 
at  last  was  reached  they  were  exhausted  com- 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C  Strain — Hero     187 

pletely.  To  add  to  the  sombre  outlook  only  one 
day's  provisions  remained,  and  the  Indians 
refused  point-blank  to  replenish  the  larder.  The 
secret  of  the  natives'  changed  attitude  has  never 
been  explained.  Whether  the  newcomers  had 
persuaded  the  guides  to  abandon  the  white  men 
and  later  return  to  their  attack  or  whether  the 
Indians  threw  up  their  task  in  disgust  under  the 
jibes  of  their  companions  will  always  be  some- 
thing of  a  mystery.  For  another  day  the  natives 
held  their  posts,  maintaining  the  same  man- 
killing  pace.  So  difficult  was  the  path  that 
although  both  red  and  white  men  put  forth  their 
hardest  efforts,  a  distance  of  only  twelve  miles 
was  covered  in  as  many  hours.  Early  the  next 
morning  the  guides  disappeared  entirely.  The 
party  was  deserted  in  the  heart  of  an  unknown 
wilderness  with  no  food,  shelter,  or  map,  and  with 
more  than  half  of  their  number  alarmingly  ill. 

Strain  ordered  a  halt  and  called  a  council. 
The  group  of  ragged  men  realized  that  they  had 
to  prepare  for  a  hand-to-hand  grapple  with  death. 
A  short  distance  to  the  rear  they  had  crossed  a 
stream  which  Strain  believed  to  be  the  Iglesias. 
Forty  miles  ahead — or  more — ^lay  the  Savana. 
If  they  could  reach  the  latter  stream,  they  would 
find  white  settlements  and  friends,  but  the  inter- 


i88     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

vening  route  extended  through  one  of  the  most 
tortuous  mangrove  swamps  in  the  world.  They 
could  depend  on  neither  water  nor  game  at  any 
point  of  the  journey,  and  without  both  the  goal 
"was  clearly  beyond  their  physical  powers  of  en- 
durance. Only  one  course  remained.  This  was 
to  follow  the  Iglesias  until  it  emptied  into  Darien 
harbor.  As  Strain  cast  his  eyes  over  the  ex- 
hausted group,  he  realized  that  many  could  never 
reach  the  journey's  end  alive.  But  even  his 
gloomy  forebodings  did  not  picture  the  ravages 
which  privation  was  to  make  in  the  ranks  before 
him. 

As  it  developed,  it  was  not  the  Iglesias  but  the 
Sucubti  River  which  the  party  had  struck,  one 
of  the  most  important  streams  in  Central  America, 
although  hitherto  it  had  not  been  indicated  in  any 
map  of  the  Isthmus.  For  eight  days  the  expedi- 
tion forced  its  way  through  the  jungle,  subsisting 
on  nuts  and  the  occasional  birds  which  the  more 
expert  marksmen  were  able  to  wing.  Their 
clothing  hung  in  tatters  and  their  bodies  were  a 
mass  of  swollen  sores.  Their  peculiar  nut  diet 
had  brought  on  severe  internal  cramps  and 
loosened  their  teeth.  On  the  third  day  they 
sought  to  make  a  short  detour  at  a  bend  of  the 
river  and  lost  the  stream  altogether.     For  two 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     189 

days  they  hacked  their  way  through  the  under- 
brush before  they  reached  water  again.  This 
time  it  was  the  Chuqunaqua  River  which  they 
found,  perhaps  the  most  treacherous  and  tortuous 
stream  from  Nicaragua  to  Colombia.  Its  steep, 
winding  banks  greatly  increased  the  difficulties  of 
their  progress.  Once  Strain  endeavored  to  build 
a  raft  in  the  hope  of  its  carrying  the  weaker  mem- 
bers of  the  expedition  to  the  coast.  When  the 
project  was  finally  accomplished,  the  current 
wrecked  the  flimsy  structure  within  an  hour  of 
its  launching.  The  plan  which  had  been  vaguely 
forming  in  Strain's  mind  for  some  days  now  took 
definite  form. 

It  was  hopeless  to  expect  to  reach  a  settlement 
at  the  pace  they  were  making.  At  most  the 
party  could  not  accomplish  more  than  five  and 
six  miles  in  a  day's  journey.  Was  it  possible  for 
two  or  three  of  the  stronger  men  to  push  on  ahead 
and  send  back  a  relief  expedition?  Strain  did  not 
make  the  plan  public  until  he  was  convinced  that 
it  was  their  only  hope,  and  then  he  put  it  in  the 
form  of  a  suggestion,  offering  himself  to  share  the 
danger  and  responsibility  of  the  advance  party. 
Several  of  the  men  at  once  stepped  forward  as 
volunteers,  and  from  the  number  he  selected  three 
who  had  shown  the  greatest  strength  and  endur- 


I  go     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

ance.  He  did  not  try  to  soften  the  perils  before 
them.  By  this  time  every  member  of  the  expedi- 
tion knew  that  the  issue  of  Hfe  or  death  was  only 
a  question  of  days.  If  Strain  could  reach  the 
coast  there  was  a  chance  of  rescue.  But  no  one 
knew  the  odds  against  him  better  than  the  men  he 
was  seeking  to  save. 

Strain  placed  Truxton  in  command  during  his 
absence,  paused  for  a  few  moments'  final  leave- 
taking,  and  then  plunged  resolutely  into  the  dark 
fringe  of  underbrush  before  them.  This  was  on 
the  thirteenth  of  February.  Thirty-nine  days 
were  to  pass  before  he  saw  the  party  again. 

The  privations  which  followed  are  almost  be- 
yond belief.  Here  are  random  extracts  from  the 
official  diary  of  Truxton 's  command: 

"March  2. — Several  of  the  men  found  under  their 
skin  to-day  a  singular  species  of  worm  called  by  the 
natives  'Gusano  del  Monte'  (worm  of  the  woods). 
It  was  covered  over  like  a  blind  boil  and  grew  rapidly, 
attaining  a  length  of  one  inch.  When  it  was  in  motion 
it  was  extremely  painful.  The  party  subsequently 
suffered  very  greatly  from  these  pests,  and  in  many 
cases  were  obliged  to  have  them  removed  by  a  surgeon 
after  the  journey  had  terminated. 

"March  3. — Early  this  morning  Lombard,  Parks, 
and  Johnson  left  the  camp  without  permission,  and 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     191 

when  it  was  found  that  they  had  taken  their  blankets 
and  cooking  utensils,  it  was  supposed  they  intended 
to  desert  and  try  to  regain  the  ship  by  making  their 
way  back  up  the  river.  After  an  absence  of  two  or 
three  hours,  however,  they  became  frightened  and 
began  firing  signals  of  distress.  Truxton,  however, 
for  a  long  time  left  them  to  wander  about.  At  last 
he  ordered  their  signals  to  be  returned,  and  they  came 
into  camp  alarmed  beyond  measure  and  most  peni- 
tent. They  confessed  that  they  intended  to  hide 
away  until  Holmes  (who  was  dying)  was  buried  and 
then  dig  up  the  corpse  and  fill  their  haversacks  with 
the  flesh. 

''Sunday,  March  5. — We  have  now  been  waiting 
twenty-one  days  for  Lieutenant  Strain's  return  and 
the  conclusion  forces  itself  upon  us  that,  if  he  with 
three  strong  men  could  not  reach  the  settlements  in 
this  time,  our  suffering,  debilitated  party  of  sixteen 
could  never  get  through.  A  council  of  the  officers, 
therefore,  has  been  held  and  we  have  determined  to 
make  our  way  back  up  the  river  and  seek  to  regain 
the  ship.  To  push  on  is  madness.  Whether  Strain 
has  perished  from  hunger,  has  been  devoured  by  wild 
beasts,  or  slain  by  Indians  can  only  be  conjectured." 

The  following  two  weeks  were  a  veritable  In- 
ferno. Holmes  was  given  a  rude  burial,  followed 
in  a  short  time  by  that  of  Castilla  and  two  days 
later    by   the   death    of    Polanco.      The    latter 


192      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

occurred  among  heart-rending  circumstances. 
When  his  illness  reached  the  point  where  he 
could  no  longer  continue  the  journey,  a  council 
of  war  was  held  and  the  question  was  argued 
whether  the  life  of  one  man  who  could  not  survive 
more  than  a  few  hours  should  be  placed  before  the 
lives  of  his  fourteen  companions.  Under  the 
conditions  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  leave 
Polanco  to  his  fate.  Three  times  Truxton  went 
back  to  bid  him  farewell  and  at  last  with  streaming 
eyes  gave  the  order  to  advance.  How  long  Po- 
lanco lay  in  the  rough  clearing  was  never  known, 
but  it  was  afterward  found  that  he  had  succeeded 
in  crawling  back  to  the  grave  of  Castilla  where 
death  finally  overtook  him. 

Lombard,  the  boatswain,  was  the  next  man  to 
go.  When  it  became  evident  that  he  could  ad- 
vance no  farther,  he  asked  that  a  fire  be  kindled 
and  a  knife  and  hatchet  given  him.  They  left 
him  sitting  back  against  a  tree  with  the  river 
whirling  at  his  feet.  How  or  when  he  met  death 
was  never  ascertained. 

Here  is  a  vivid  account  of  the  last  days  of  the 
expedition,  in  those  hours  when  the  death  of  all 
seemed  certain.  The  extract  is  taken  from  an 
article  by  J.  T.  Headley,  pubHshed  in  Harper's 
Magazine  shortly  after  the  events  described. 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     193 

"  It  was  not  death  they  feared:  it  was  the  desolate 
fate  of  being  left  alor^e  in  the  woods  that  made  them 
try  to  march.  Again  and  again  a  poor  wretch  would 
sit  down  declaring  he  could  go  no  farther;  but  as  the 
forms  of  his  comrades  vanished  in  the  forest,  he 
would  struggle  up  and  stagger  after  them.  The 
weaker  they  grew,  of  course,  the  less  able  they  were 
to  get  food  and  thus  hunger  and  weakness  acted  on 
each  other. 

"Some  of  them  even  wished  they  might  get  an 
Indian  to  eat;  and  though  the  horrible  thought  may 
have  occurred  to  some  of  devouring  each  other,  it 
found  no  outward  expression;  nor  could  it,  for,  still 
true  to  their  high  obligations,  the  officers  retained 
their  lofty  character  and  through  it  their  supreme 
authority. 

**  Nothing  more  vividly  illustrates  the  terrible  straits 
to  which  they  were  reduced  than  the  following  inci- 
dent. Truxton,  one  day  in  casting  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  saw  a  toad.  Instantly  snatching  it  up,  he 
bit  off  the  head  and  spitting  it  away,  devoured  the 
body.  Maury  looked  at  him  a  moment  and  then 
picked  up  the  rejected  head,  saying,  'Well,  Truxton, 
you  are  getting  quite  particular.  Something  of  an 
epicure,  eh?'  With  these  words  he  quietly  devoured 
the  head  himself. 

"After   his   return,   a   friend   in   questioning   him 

about  the  incident  said,  *  Why,  Maury,  I  thought  the 

head  of  a  toad  was  poisonous.'     *0h,'   he  replied, 
13 


194     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

'that  is  a  popular  fallacy,  but  it  is  devilish  bitter!' 
"To  a  mere  looker-on  the  camp  on  that  last  night 
would  have  presented  a  most  heart-rending  spectacle. 
It  was  plain  that  only  two  or  three  could  reach  the 
banana  plantations  toward  which  they  were  strug- 
gling, while  four  or  five  must  be  left  alone  in  the 
jungle  to  starve  or  to  die.  Three  knew  that  their 
fate  was  sealed  and  looked  forward  to  their  abandon- 
ment with  a  calm,  stern  eye.  Their  young  com- 
mander, Truxton,  would  in  all  human  probability 
never  lead  them  again.  Weighed  down  with  the 
terrible  responsibility  of  so  many  lives  resting  on  his 
exertions,  he  had  borne  nobly  up  until  the  sudden 
attack  caused  by  eating  some  unknown  berries.  As 
he  lay  with  his  head  resting  against  the  root  of  a 
tree,  his  clothes  in  rags,  his  face  wan,  his  dark  eyes 
sunken,  while  the  blood  streamed  from  his  hands 
which  the  thorns  had  pierced — he  presented  a  spec- 
tacle that  would  draw  tears  from  stones.  Boggs,  a 
young  man  of  fortune,  who  had  joined  the  expedition 
as  an  amateur,  lay  near  him.  It  was  plain  that  he 
had  made  his  last  march.  He  was  engaged  to  a  girl 
in  Illinois  and  visions  of  her  kept  hovering  before  him. 
"  A  few  steps  off  in  the  men's  camp,  the  spectacle 
was  still  more  harrowing.  Some  were  sitting  on  the 
ground  with  their  heads  doubled  to  their  knees  so 
that  the  pressure  would  relieve  the  gnawing  pain  in 
their  stomachs,  while  others  were  lying  flat  on  their 
backs  staring  up  at  the  sky.     Harwood,  a  young  man, 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     195 

twenty-two  years  of  age,  was  doubled  up,  a  mere 
bundle  of  rags,  his  neglected  hair  streaming  over  his 
shoulders,  giving  him  a  weird,  unearthly  appearance. 
He  knew  that  his  marching  was  over.  Beside 
him  in  the  same  position  and  almost  naked,  sat 
another  young  man.  Miller,  who  was  also  to  be  left 
in  the  morning.  A  short  distance  from  these  sat 
Harrison  leaning  against  a  tree.  He  was  a  tall, 
powerful  man,  but  now  wasted  to  a  skeleton  and 
only  half  covered  by  his  rags.  He  had  been  one  of 
the  best  men  in  the  party,  but  starvation  had  done 
its  work  and  he  had  taken  his  last  step  toward  the 
banana  plantations.  A  little  farther  off  lay  Ver- 
milyea,  with  his  skeleton  arms  flung  out  upon  the 
ground,  from  which  he  could  not  rise  even  to  a 
sitting  position.  A  settled  gloom,  a  chill  despair, 
an  appalling  resignation  characterized  each  man. 

"Just  as  night  was  descending  over  the  forest,  a 
report  like  that  of  a  musket  was  heard  down  the 
river.  Maury,  who  was  sitting  near  the  shore, 
shouted,  'Truxton,  I  hear  a  gun.  Shall  I  fire?' 
*Yes,'  replied  Truxton  without  stirring.  'But  I  am 
not  loaded  with  slugs.'  'Never  mind,'  was  the  weak 
response.  'Fire  away.'  In  a  few  moments  Maury 
exclaimed  again,  '  I  see  boats  and  Indians.' 

"Then  again,  'I  see  boats  and  white  men,'  and 
still  again,  'I  see  boats  and  Strain!'  The  expedition 
had  been  saved  at  that  moment  when  the  fate  of 
all  had  seemed  to  be  sealed." 


196     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Strain's  battle  with  the  wilderness  in  search  of 
a  relief  expedition  represents  an  achievement 
almost  more  than  human.  It  was  only  his  in- 
domitable will  which  kept  the  little  party  alive. 
The  latter  part  of  the  journey  was  made  on  a  raft. 
The  structure  was  wrecked  on  a  mass  of  drift- 
wood near  the  river's  mouth  and  the  intrepid 
Americans  finished  their  trip  on  a  log.  When  the 
coast  settlement  of  Yavisa  was  reached,  Strain 
was  so  exhausted  that  he  had  to  be  carried  from 
the  river. 

Of  the  twenty-seven  men  who  composed  the 
party,  one  third  died  from  exposure  and  priva- 
tion. Of  the  remainder  fully  half  carried  the 
effects  of  the  terrible  ordeal  to  the  grave.  Lieu- 
tenant Strain,  in  his  report  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Navy,  says  that  the  expedition  was  "without 
brilliancy,  because  without  success."  From  an 
official  standpoint  the  report  was  true.  The  sur- 
vey of  the  Isthmus,  which  it  had  been  hoped  to 
accomplish,  was  impossible.  But  a  greater  evi- 
dence of  unselfish  heroism  in  the  face  of  peril  and 
privation  has  never  been  recorded  in  the  annals 
of  American  history.  The  expedition  effectively 
exposed  the  false  reports  which  had  been  given 
to  the  world  regarding  Panama  and  showed  for 
the  first  time  the  true  character  and  extent  of  the 


Lieutenant  Isaac  C.  Strain — Hero     197 

wilderness  which  covers  the  neck  of  the  American 
continent.  If  a  more  positive  result  were  not 
achieved,  the  failure  was  not  due  in  any  sense  to 
the  men  who  helped  blaze  the  way  for  the  greater 
triumphs  of  the  twentieth  century. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  THE  GATUN  DAM 

'yHE  smile  of  William  Howard  Taft,  forty- 
^  seventh  President  of  the  United  States,  is  of 
large  proportions.  Also  it  is  thoroughly  hearty 
and  genuine,  expansive  but  never  thin.  It  was  in 
vivid  evidence  at  the  Culebra  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building 
during  his  Isthmian  visit  of  February,  1909,  when 
the  President  in  his  address  to  the  men  of  the 
Panama  Canal  reached  the  subject  of  the  much- 
assailed  Gatim  Dam.  Behind  the  smile  there  was 
a  story,  one  of  the  few  that  President  Taft  tells 
in  public,  and  behind  the  story  there  was  a 
characteristic  summing  up  of  the  truth  about 
the  Panama  Canal: 

"  In  my  early  days  at  Cincinnati  there  used  to  be 
a  judge,"  related  Mr.  Taft,  **who  once  remarked  to 
a  lawyer  arguing  a  certain  case  before  him,  *  You 
have  stated  that  point  to  me  twice.  Now  please  do 
not  repeat  it  again.' 

198 


I- 


From  a  photograpli  by  Fibhbaugli 

THE   RUINS    OF    THE    PANAMA   OF    FOUR   HUNDRED    YEARS   AGO 


The  Truth  about  Gatun  Dam     199 

"'But,  your  Honor,'  protested  the  lawyer,  'I  want 
to  make  myself  clear.'  To  which  the  judge  with 
some  asperity  replied,  'Down  in  my  country  they 
say  that  a  good  judge  can  digest  an  argument  after 
it  is  presented  to  him  once.  If  he  is  a  little  dull  it 
may  take  twice  to  make  him  comprehend,  but  when 
you  give  it  to  him  a  third  time  he  receives  it  as 
intimation  that  you  think  he  is  a  fool!' 

"Therefore  I  repeat  that  the  people  of  the  United 
States  are  not  excited  by  the  headlines  in  the  news- 
papers that  the  Gatun  Dam  is  falling  down,  or  any- 
thing of  the  sort.  They  are  determined  to  have  the 
Canal  built.  They  are  willing  to  spend  the  money  to 
do  so.  And  they  believe  in  the  men  who  are  doing 
the  work.  To  try  to  convince  them  that  the  Canal 
is  wrong  and  the  men  behind  it  wrong  is  to  assume 
that  like  the  judge  in  the  story  they  are  thorough 
fools." 

Which  expresses  the  problem  of  the  Gatun 
Dam  in  a  nutshell.  As  a  matter  of  fact  there 
is  no  problem.  The  charge  that  the  project  is 
impracticable,  that  the  dam  is  undermined  by  a 
subterranean  lake,  is  not  only  the  veriest  nonsense 
but  a  malicious  falsehood. 

Here  is  the  angle  from  which  John  F.  Stevens, 
formerly  chief  engineer  at  the  Panama  Canal, 
views  the  broadsides  of  yellow  journalism  that 
have  been  hurled  at  Gatun; 


60O     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

*'The  animus  of  the  attack  lies  deeper  than  any 
alleged  fears  as  to  the  practicability  of  the  pro- 
posed dam  or  locks.  A  suggestion  in  the  news- 
paper that  was  at  the  head  and  front  of  the 
agitation  that  the  whole  work  had  better  be 
dropped  and  the  money  already  spent  charged  up 
to  'profit  and  loss'  is  very  significant.  Once  such 
action  were  taken,  the  Nicaraguan  scheme  would 
come  to  the  front  again,  backed  by  all  of  the 
powerful  influences  which  before  tried  to  foist  it 
upon  the  American  people  for  reasons  not  hard 
to  understand. 

''The  question  of  the  advisability  of  building  an 
Interoceanic  Canal  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
matter.  The  people  have  decided  that  they  want 
the  Canal,  and  they  are  ready  to  pay  for  it.  The 
choice  of  the  location  has  been  wisely  made  and 
the  work  properly  planned.  It  is  in  competent 
hands  and  is  being  executed  with  a  rapidity  that 
surprises  even  its  friends.  The  thing  to  do  is  to 
extend  to  Colonel  Goethals  and  his  assistants  all 
the  encouragement  and  moral  help  possible.  The 
engineering  world  will  have  every  reason  to  be 
proud  of  the  result  when  it  is  an  accomplished 
fact." 

We  have  heard  much  of  the  Gatun  Dam  from 
the  engineer's  standpoint,  from  the  muck-raker's 


The  Truth  about  Gatun  Dam     201 

standpoint,  and  from  the  politician's  standpoint. 
What  are  the  central,  vital  details  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  average  American  citizen  who  does  n't 
know  anything  about  the  engineering  technicali- 
ties and  does  n't  care  anything  about  the  muck- 
raking broadsides  ?  Behind  the  mass  of  blue-prints 
and  charts  what  are  the  plain  facts  that  enter  into 
its  construction? 

As  a  foundation,  we  have  the  initial  statement 
that  the  great  mass  of  earth  and  stone,  which  we 
call  the  Gatun  Dam,  will  shelter  the  largest  arti- 
ficial body  of  water  in  the  world,  measuring  167 
square  miles.  On  its  surface  the  world's  mightiest 
vessels  of  peace  and  war  may  be  expected  to 
gather.  On  this  inland  sea,  created  by  man's 
ingenuity,  a  fleet  will  be  able  to  anchor  with  as 
much  ease  and  safety  as  in  the  largest  harbor  in 
the  world. 

It  will  need  tens  of  millions  of  dollars,  tens  of 
thousands  of  men,  and  years  of  the  most  patient 
and  exacting  labor  to  accomplish  this  achieve- 
ment. It  is  a  bald  statement  to  say  that  the 
project  will  be  one  of  the  engineering  marvels  of 
history.  Perhaps  a  generation  ago  it  would  have 
been  deemed  impossible.  Yet  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury engineering  expert  shrugs  his  shoulders  if  you 
suggest  the  difficulties  of  the  project.     He  will  tell 


202      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

you  that  it  is  just  a  question  of  money  and  men 
and  time.  As  for  the  rest  it  is  merely  a  matter 
of  following  one  general  policy  as  plain  to  the 
engineer  as  the  printed  page  is  to  the  layman. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Gatun  Dam  presents  fewer 
problems  than  the  metropolitan  sky-scraper  does 
to  the  architect.  When  completed  the  dam  will 
be  a  huge  embankment  7700  feet  long — nearly  a 
mile  and  a  quarter, — ^half  a  mile  wide  at  the  base, 
90  feet  high,  and  tapering  to  a  breadth  of  100  feet 
at  the  top.  These  are  big  figures  in  fact  as  well 
as  on  paper.  But  the  veteran  engineer  digests 
them  without  a  quiver  of  an  eyelash.  They  are 
only  the  dimensions  of  a  mass  of  earth  and  stone 
and  cement  long  enough  and  high  enough  and 
firm  enough  to  hold  back  the  pressure  of  water 
against  it.  It  will  be  built  almost  in  a  straight 
line.  The  earth  beneath  is  solid.  There  are  no 
ugly  hollows  nor  treacherous  swamps.  Certain 
sensational  newspaper  writers  have  said  that  a 
vast  subterranean  lake  exists  under  the  ground 
and  that  the  whole  structure  might  crumble 
into  its  depths  without  warning.  The  engin- 
eers at  Panama,  however,  do  not  even  reply 
to  this  charge  now.  "If  there  is  such  a  lake," 
argues  the  bronzed  man  in  white  duck  who  has 
been   solving   the   engineering   problems   of   the 


The  Truth  about  Gatun  Dam     203 

Canal  for  five  years,  "don't  you  suppose  I  would 
know  more  about  it  than  a  newspaper  man?  And 
if  I  knew  there  was  such  a  lake,  do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  ruin  my  reputation  by  going  ahead 
on  a  line  that  would  end  in  failure?  And  again, 
don't  you  give  me  the  credit  for  a  small  degree  of 
patriotism?  Do  you  think  that  I  would  want 
my  country  to  spend  millions  of  dollars  in  a  pro- 
ject that  might  collapse  before  it  is  completed? 
The  charge  that  there  is  a  subterranean  lake  under 
the  Gatun  Dam  is  not  only  a  ridiculous  statement 
but  a  malicious  one.  The  whole  project  reduces 
itself  to  the  question  of  building  a  solid  embank- 
ment on  solid  ground.  The  Singer  Building  in 
New  York  is  regarded  as  an  architectural  wonder, 
but  after  all  the  problem  of  its  construction  was 
merely  that  of  putting  one  story  above  another 
on  a  firm  foundation.  That  is  our  only  problem 
at  the  Gatun  Dam,  that — and  harnessing  the 
Chagres  River." 

Here  we  have  the  most  puzzling  factor  at  the 
Panama  Canal.  The  Chagres  River  is  at  once 
the  greatest  boon  and  the  greatest  drawback 
which  the  engineers  are  facing.  Without  it  the 
present  course  of  the  Canal  would  be  almost 
impossible.  Like  dynamite,  however,  it  is  an 
agency  which  may  be  just  as  powerful  for  evil  as 


204     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

for  good.  The  difficulty  does  not  lie  in  utilizing 
the  Chagres  River  btit  in  controlling  it  after  it 
has  been  put  to  work.  Unlike  man  it  does  not 
measure  a  day's  work  by  the  union  scale,  and 
having  accomplished  a  certain  task,  takes  par- 
ticular delight  in  tearing  it  to  pieces.  It  is  not 
a  well  behaved  stream  in  any  sense  of  the  word. 
It  refuses  even  to  stay  where  Nature  has  placed 
it.  Every  few  months  it  rises  in  a  rage  and 
sweeps  over  its  banks  with  a  fury  which  on  certain 
memorable  occasions  has  not  abated  until  the 
surrounding  territory  for  miles  has  been  deluged 
with  angry,  swirling  waters.  At  Gatun  it  has 
even  attained  a  volume  as  large  as  that  of  the 
Great  Falls  of  Maryland.  And  then  when  it  sub- 
sides it  goes  to  sleep  and  its  current  dwindles 
almost  to  nothing.  For  months  it  seems  to  share 
the  stupor  of  the  tropics,  hardly  mustering  energy 
enough  to  reach  the  Caribbean.  During  these 
periods  it  is  the  laziest  stream  from  Nicaragua  to 
Colombia.  The  problem,  therefore,  of  keeping 
the  Chagres  River  at  steady,  systematic  work  is 
a  difficult  one.  And  the  success  of  the  Canal 
depends  largely  on  its  solution. 

In  a  paragraph  the  plan  of  the  Canal-builders 
is  to  dig  a  straight  channel  5000  feet  wide  and  40 
feet  deep  from  the  Atlantic  coast  to  Gatun,  where 


[  The  Truth  about  Gatun  Dam     205 

a  system  of  three  locks  will  lift  vessels  to  the 
8  5 -foot  level  of  the  great  inland  lake,  which  will 
be  formed  by  the  Chagres  River  when  it  is  turned 
from  its  present  course  at  this  point.  The  Gatun 
Lake  is  three  miles  from  the  Atlantic  coast.  It 
will  carry  vessels  for  the  next  twenty-five  miles 
of  the  interoceanic  voyage,  which  brings  them 
to  Las  Cascadas.  Here  they  enter  the  Culebra 
Cut,  the  only  point  where  the  route  becomes  in  a 
technical  sense  a  canal.  This  section  continues 
for  seven  miles,  when  the  vessels  are  lowered  to  a 
second  lake  at  Mirafiores,  formed  by  two  dams 
of  which  the  largest  is  located  at  La  Boca,  almost 
within  the  shadow  of  the  Pacific.  This  latter  lake 
is  five  miles  in  extent.  At  Mirafiores  are  located 
two  duplicate  locks  for  conducting  the  vessels 
through  the  last  stage  of  the  journey  to  the  waters 
of  the  western  ocean.  The  Isthmian  waterway  is 
just  forty  miles  in  extent,  five  eighths  of  which 
will  be  furnished  by  the  waters  imprisoned  by  the 
Gatun  Dam,  in  other  words,  the  Chagres  River 
under  harness. 

The  Gatun  Lake  will  never  be  less  than  42  feet 
in  depth  along  the  ship  route,  and  for  the  first 
sixteen  miles  its  navigable  width  will  exceed  a 
half  a  mile.  In  the  next  nine  miles,  its  width 
diminishes  gradually  to   300   feet,  and  when  it 


2o6     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

reaches  the  Culebra  Cut  the  width  at  the  bottom 
will  be  only  200  feet.  The  entire  canal,  how- 
ever, will  average  a  width  of  not  less  than  500 
feet. 

The  Gatun  Dam  will  consist  of  two  great  piles 
of  rock  1200  feet  apart  and  rising  to  a  point  60 
feet  above  mean  tide.  The  intervening  space 
will  be  filled  by  earth  and  stones  deposited  by 
giant  hydraulic  machines.  In  addition  to  the 
Chagres  River  the  ground  to  be  covered  by  the 
dam  is  crossed  by  the  watercourses  of  the  old 
French  Canal  and  the  West  Diversion.  It  was 
at  the  former  that  the  stories  of  the  instabiHty 
of  the  project  had  their  birth. 

The  south  rock  pile  was  being  constructed  here 
in  the  early  part  of  November,  1908.  A  news- 
paper correspondent  on  his  way  from  Colon  to 
Panama  noticed  a  group  of  engineers  and  workmen 
gathered  about  the  vicinity  with  an  air  of  unusual 
excitement.  The  Chagres  River  had  been  in  a 
flood  stage  for  several  days  and  a  portion  of  the 
railroad  track  was  temporarily  under  water. 
When  the  train  was  halted  the  newspaper  man 
strolled  over  to  the  scene  of  activity. 

A  portion  of  the  dam  had  slipped  back  owing 
to  a  slight  settling  of  the  ground  beneath.  This 
was  the  fifth  slip  which  had  occurred  since  the 


The  Truth  about  Gatun  Dam     207 

work  of  construction.  The  others,  however,  had 
been  deemed  too  trivial  to  cause  concern  and 
had  been  overcome  with  a  few  da^^s'  labor  in 
readjusting  the  slope  of  the  masonry.  The  re- 
porter, however,  saw  an  opportunity  for  a  sensa- 
tional cable  dispatch.  It  had  been  only  a  few 
days  before  that  the  story  of  the  underground 
lake  had  appeared.  What  more  logical  than  the 
theory  that  the  whole  dam  was  slipping  down  into 
the  mysterious  subterranean  pool?  This  was  the 
argument  of  the  reporter.  When  he  walked  into 
the  cable  office  it  was  with  several  pages  of  closely 
written  manuscript.  The  next  day  the  nation 
was  ringing  with  the  news  that  the  Gatun  Dam 
was  a  wreck.  Before  an  official  denial  could  be 
printed,  the  slip  at  the  French  Canal  had  been 
repaired  and  the  men  on  the  job  had  forgotten 
all  about  it. 

As  a  record  of  history,  it  is  on  such  trivial  in- 
cidents as  this  that  most  of  the  muck-raking 
charges  against  the  Panama  Canal  have  been 
founded.  One  American  writer  who  has  been 
most  prolific  and  stubborn  in  his  cries  of  failure 
proved  himself  unable  to  distinguish  a  dredging 
machine  from  a  steam  shovel. 

The  truth  is  that  the  charges  against  the  Gatun 
Dam  have  been  made  by  those  who  either  do  not 


2o8     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

know  the  real  facts  or  do  not  want  to  know.  The 
men  who  know  the  situation,  and  are  qualified  to 
discuss  it  intelligently  and  fairly,  endorse  the 
project  without  reservation.  The  American 
people  may  rest  assured  that  the  engineers  in 
charge  of  the  Panama  Canal,  who  have  pledged 
their  words  to  the  nation  that  it  not  only  can  be 
dug  but  will  be  dug,  are  worthy  of  their  deepest 
confidence  and  support.  The  muck-raker  is  en- 
titled to  a  hearing  when  he  has  the  truth  on  his 
side.  Indeed  he  should  be  supported  whether  he 
strikes  at  the  government  or  at  the  individual. 
But  when  he  has  n't  facts  or  even  shreds  of  facts 
to  support  his  charges,  and  in  the  face  of  the 
world  tries  to  riddle  his  coimtry's  cause,  he  is 
open  to  the  suspicion  that  he  would  sell  his 
nation's  honor  as  quickly  as  he  would  his  own. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IS  IT  ALL  WORTH  WHILE? 

A  A /"HAT  is  Uncle  Sam  really  to  gain  from  the 
'  '  Panama  Canal?  In  dollars  and  cents, 
how  is  this  $400,000,000  or  $500,000,000  in- 
vestment to  pay?  When  the  Canal  finally  is 
completed' — what  ? 

In  the  record  of  the  world's  great  waterways, 
the  Suez  Canal  is  a  triumphant  success.  In  cold 
figures,  it  has  cost  $100,000,000.  In  an  average 
year,  its  gross  revenues  amount  to  twelve  per 
cent,  of  this  expenditure.  In  other  words,  the 
investment  yields  a  return  of  $1,000,000  a  month. 
In  one  year,  4000  vessels  with  a  combined  tonnage 
of  15,615,309  pass  through  the  waterway. 

The  most  conservative  prophet  will  admit  that 
Panama  offers  far  greater  commercial  possibilities 
than  will  ever  be  attained  by  the  Suez  route.  But 
this  is  not  to  say  that  the  Panama  Canal  is  or  will 
be  the  greatest  in  the  world' — from  a  financial 
viewpoint.  Such  a  rose-tinted  assertion  must  be 
shattered  in  the  beginning. 
14  209 


2IO     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

It  will  pay.  This  is  not  fairly  certain,  but  ab- 
solutely so.  How  much  or  how  soon  are  questions 
which  cannot  be  answered  definitely.  On  an  in- 
vestment of  $400,000,000  a  six  per  cent,  return 
would  mean  a  yearly  income  of  $24,000,000 — 
double  the  total  receipts  from  the  Suez  Canal. 
Even  a  ten  per  cent,  profit,  however,  could  not 
equal  the  returns  from  the  famous  '*Soo"  Canal, 
which,  as  the  throat  of  the  Great  Lakes,  swallows 
more  millions,  both  in  tonnage  and  dollars,  than 
ever  can  be  possible  at  Panama.  This  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  investor.  It  is  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  public  that  the  real  possibilities  of 
the  Panama  Canal  are  most  vividly  silhouetted. 

The  Suez  Canal  was  built  frankly  to  make 
money.  Back  of  it  is  a  private  corporation 
shrewd  enough  and  strong  enough  to  demand 
from  the  golden  stream  of  the  world's  commerce 
an  enormous  profit.  The  Panama  Canal  is  to 
be  viewed  from  an  'exactly  opposite  angle.  It 
is  not  being  constructed  to  provide  a  gigantic 
revenue  either  for  a  private  corporation  or  for 
the  Government.  Its  primary  object  is  essen- 
tially one  of  public  service.  Its  central  purpose 
is  the  promotion  of  American  industry  and  Ameri- 
can commerce  as  factors  in  our  national  develop- 
ment.    If   it    never   paid    more    than    operating 


Is  It  All  Worth  While?  211 

expenses  to  the  Government,  the  project  would 
yield  an  incalciilable  return  in  the  new  industrial 
epoch  it  will  mark. 

The  Panama  Canal  may  be  operated  on  one 
of  four  policies.  A  toll  rate  may  be  charged 
large  enough  to  return  to  the  Government  not 
only  its  original  expenditure  but  a  profit  on  the 
investment.  Again  this  toll  may  be  reduced  to 
a  point  barely  large  enough  to  create  a  sinking 
fund,  which  in  time  may  balance  the  vast  ex- 
penses of  the  imdertaking.  Still  again  the  Govern- 
ment may  not  seek  reimbursement  for  the  cost  of 
construction,  but  may  endeavor  merely  to  cover 
the  operating  expenses.  As  the  last  and  prob- 
ably the  least  likely  policy,  the  Government  may 
remove  the  Canal  entirely  from  tolls,  and  leave 
it  free  to  our  own  nation  if  not  to  the  world. 

As  a  problem  in  multiplication,  suppose  we 
institute  a  toll  rate  of  one  dollar  a  ton  at  the 
Panama  Canal.  This  would  be  quite  reasonable. 
Indeed  we  could  increase  it  to  a  dollar  and  a  half 
without  being  exorbitant.  In  one  year  we  may 
expect  that  a  tonnage  of  from  4,000,000  to  10,000,- 
000  will  pass  through  the  great  waterway.  In 
course  of  time  it  will  be  much  more,  and  far 
greater  than  the  records  of  the  Suez  Canal.  We 
are  dealing  now,  however,  with  the  facts  which 


2  12      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

we  may  expect  within  three  or  four  years  after 
the  opening  of  the  Canal.  On  a  tonnage  of  6,000,- 
000  we  could  anticipate  then  a  revenue  of  $6,000,- 
000.  Within  ten  years  this  could  well  be  doubled. 
If  the  Canal  were  the  property  of  a  private  cor- 
poration, a  toll  of  at  least  a  dollar  and  a  half 
would  be  charged,  and  the  project  could  be  ex- 
pected to  yield  within  ten  years  a  profit  of  from 
four  to  five  per  cent. 

Half  of  the  population  of  the  globe  live  on  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  to  which  the  Panama  Canal  will 
be  the  most  direct  and  feasible  gateway.  This 
is  a  commercial  fact,  whose  possibilities  the  world 
cannot  measure — yet.  And  the  Canal  is  to  be 
viewed  from  yet  another  angle.  It  will  be  a 
part  of  the  North  American  coast  line,  affording 
the  first  w^ater  communication  we  have  ever  had 
between  our  Atlantic  and  Pacific  States  without 
rounding  South  America.  The  Panama  Canal 
will  tap  five  main  arteries  of  commerce  — 
Atlantic  North  America,  Pacific  North  America, 
Pacific  South  America,  Australia,  and  Eastern 
Asia.  Between  many  of  these  markets,  high 
freight  rates  and  long  water  routes  have  built 
almost  impregnable  barriers. 

For  example,  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco 
by  water  is  now  a  journey  of  13,714  miles  through 


Is  It  All  Worth  While?  213 

the  Straits  of  Magellan.  The  Panama  Canal  will 
reduce  this  by  more  than  half,  to  be  exact  effecting 
a  saving  of  8415  miles.  From  New  York  to 
Yokohama  by  way  of  the  Suez  Canal  is  a  distance 
of  13,564  miles.  By  way  of  the  Panama  Canal 
it  will  be  lessened  to  9835  miles.  From  New 
York  to  Guayaquil  is  now  a  journey  of  10,425 
miles.  The  Panama  Canal  will  lower  this  figure 
by  more  than  three  fourths,  reducing  it  by  7561 
miles. 

Curiously  enough  it  is  farther  by  water  from 
New  Orleans  to  San  Francisco  than  it  is  from  New 
York  owing  to  the  winding  route  through  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  and  along  the  northern  coast  of 
South  America.  At  the  present  time  it  is  a  dis- 
tance of  14,114  miles.  The  Panama  Canal  will 
reduce  this  to  4698  miles.  From  New  Orleans 
to  Yokohama  is  now  14,929  miles.  By  way  of 
the  Panama  Canal  it  will  be  lessened  to  9234  miles. 
Compare  the  distances  to  Australia.  When  the 
Panama  Canal  is  completed,  the  present  water 
route  from  New  York  to  Sydney,  Melbourne,  and 
Adelaide  will  be  decreased  from  one  fourth  to 
one  third. 

A  new  map,  geographically,  commercially,  and 
financially,  will  be  traced  by  the  Big  Ditch  at 
Panama.     How  it  will  pay  is  much  clearer  than 


214     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

how  much  it  will  pay.  In  the  foreground  is  the 
cyclonic  boost  which  it  will  give  the  American 
cotton  and  iron  markets.  The  Southern  cotton 
growers  now  reach  the  Asiatic  ports  by  the  cum- 
bersome route  of  the  Suez  Canal  via  New  York. 
Zigzag  routes  and  smothering  freight  charges  are 
devouring  the  item  of  profit.  Europe,  with  the 
key  to  the  situation,  is  turning  it  slowly  in  the 
lock  against  American  competition.  The  Panama 
Canal  would  revolutionize  these  conditions  with 
the  wrench  of  a  Kansas  cyclone. 

South  America  spends  $86,000,000  each  year 
for  cotton.  Only  five  per  cent,  of  this  amount 
goes  to  the  United  States.  The  remainder  is 
cornered  by  the  European  exporters  who  hold 
the  west  coast  of  South  America  practically  at 
their  mercy  through  the  lessened  expense  of 
transportation.  Here  again  the  Panama  Canal 
would  reverse  this  situation  like  the  change  of 
slides  in  a  stereopticon. 

Cotton  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  our  products. 
Ever  since  the  dream  of  Eli  Whitney  became  a 
reality,  cotton  bales  have  been  rising  to  a  higher 
and  higher  pinnacle  on  our  financial  horizon. 
Of  recent  years  men  have  learned  that  our  cotton 
development  is  being  smothered,  that  our  market 
is  not  keeping  pace  with  our  production.     The 


Isit  All  Worth  While?  215 

cotton  growers  of  Europe,  often  with  a  less  in- 
vestment and  less  expenses,  are  gathering  greater 
returns  than  the  American  planters,  who  more- 
over are  not  putting  forth  their  full  efforts  because 
of  the  handicapped  market  they  are  facing. 
South  America  would  use  our  cotton  in  preference 
to  that  of  Europe,  but  it  is  not  going  to  pay  more. 
Europe  sends  her  cotton  through  the  Suez  Canal 
with  a  transportation  charge  reduced  to  the 
minimum.  We  have  to  send  our  cotton  either 
down  around  Cape  Horn  or  follow  laggardly  in 
the  footsteps  of  our  European  competitor  through 
the  Suez  Canal.  With  a  freight  expense  three  and 
four  times  greater  than  his,  competition  is  absurd. 
Iron  can  be  produced  more  cheaply  at  Bir- 
mingham, Alabama,  than  at  any  other  point  in 
the  world.  Here  again  the  barrier  of  transporta- 
tion closes  the  great  South  American  and  Asiatic 
markets.  The  Tennessee  mills  produce  machinery 
of  almost  every  pattern,  machinery  with  a  world- 
wide reputation,  but  it  is  out  of  the  question  for 
us  to  carry  it  to  the  countries  of  the  Pacific  in  the 
hope  of  out-bidding  Europe.  The  Southern  States 
centre  a  large  share  of  their  manufactures  on  the 
steel  and  hardware  industry.  Their  hardware  is 
so  good  that  we  have  long  known  the  Pacific 
market  would  jump  at  it,  if  we  could  bring  it 


2i6      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

within  the  other  fellow's  prices.  But  we  can't. 
We  have  to  go  double  the  distance,  and  add  a 
freight  charge  heavier  than  the  cost  of  produc- 
tion. If  South  America  and  Asia  were  thrown 
open  to  our  Southern  mills,  their  output  would 
be  doubled.  This  is  impossible  now.  In  the 
Panama  Canal  lies  the  magic  wand  which  will 
make  it  possible. 

The  Big  Ditch  at  Panama  will  solve  the  forestry 
problem — from  one  point  of  view.  Vast  forests 
sweep  the  Western  coast,  in  which  one  of  the 
greatest  supplies  of  building  lumber  in  the  world 
is  located.  It  is  beyond  our  reach  now,  at  least 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  Eastern  markets,  because 
of  the  excessive  freight  charges.  Consequently 
we  have  to  view  it  as  something  imattainable. 
The  cost  of  water  transportation  is  one  fifth  that 
of  overland  transportation.  With  the  ocean  itin- 
erary opened  by  the  Panama  Canal,  the  East 
will  be  for  the  first  time  able  to  reach  the  Western 
lumber,  and  another  segment  of  the  industrial 
revolution  will  be  unfolded. 

Indefinitely  the  commercial  field  of  the  Panama 
Canal  could  be  lengthened — to  the  items  of  coal, 
fruits,  cereals,  fish,  grain,  manufactured  goods  in 
general  and  particular,  and  even  the  broadening 
possibilities  before  the  American  ship  builder. 


Is  It  All  Worthwhile?  217 

With  an  inland  canal  from  the  Great  Lakes 
to  the  Mississippi,  and  the  deepening  of  the 
passageway  to  the  Gulf,  the  dream  of  an  ocean 
greyhound  floating  majestically  southward  from 
Duluth  to  Colon,  and  thence  through  the  Pana- 
ma Canal  to  the  countless  ports  of  the  Pacific,  is 
easy  of  accomplishment. 

And  who  can  measure  the  golden  trail  in  its 
wake? 


APPENDIX 

As  the  latest  full  and  authoritative  account  of  the 
progress  made  in  digging  the  Panama  Canal,  the 
subjoined  report  should  prove  of  the  first  interest 
to  all  who  are  curious  regarding  the  colossal  task 
now  in  process  of  accomplishment  on  the  Isthmus. 

FULL  TEXT  OF  THE  REPORT  OF  THE  SPEC- 
IAL BOARD  OF  ENGINEERS  SUBMITTED 
TO  CONGRESS  BY  THE  PRESIDENT 

Washington,  February  16,  1909. 

Sir:  In  accordance  with  your  instructions,  we 
have  visited  the  Isthmian  Canal,  in  company  with 
Hon.  William  H.  Taft,  and  have  examined  the  work 
in  progress  and  the  plans  for  the  structures  as  far  as 
now  developed. 

We  have  given  especial  consideration,  under  the 
instructions  of  Mr.  Taft,  to  the  foundations  for  the 
Gatun  Dam,  and  the  feasibility  of  constructing  and 
maintaining  thereon  a  safe  dam  for  retaining  water 
at  85  feet  above  sea-level. 

We  have  examined  the  slides  in  the  banks  of  the 
Canal  and  the  surveys,  plottings,  and  sections  that 
have  been  made  of  them.  The  subsidence  in  the 
fills  in  the  toes  of  the  dams  and  in  the  railway  em- 
bankments has  also  been  examined,  and  we  have 
considered   the   effect   of  the   qualities   of  materials 

219 


22 o     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmms 

thus  disclosed  upon  the  construction  of  the  various 
works  and  upon  their  ultimate  stability. 

We  have  also  considered  the  evidence  that  has  been 
accumulated  as  to  the  permeability  of  the  different 
materials  and  the  possible  loss  of  water  by  percola- 
tion through  the  bed  and  banks  of  the  future  Gatun 
Lake;  and  the  question  whether  such  loss  of  water 
by  seepage  would  result  in  materially  reducing  the 
water  supply  or  in  undermining  and  ultimately 
crippling  the  structure. 

GATUN   DAM 

The  Gatun  earth  dam  is  the  central  point  of  dis- 
cussion, and  we  were  instructed  by  Mr.  Taft  to  give 
it  first  consideration  in  the  light  of  all  new  evidence. 

We  are  satisfied,  both  from  the  records  of  the  ex- 
periments that  have  been  made  and  from  our  own 
personal  examination  of  the  materials,  as  seen  in 
cuts  now  open  and  as  disclosed  by  samples  from  test 
borings,  that  there  will  be  no  dangerous  or  objection- 
able seepage  through  the  materials  under  the  base 
of  the  dam,  nor  are  they  so  soft  as  to  be  liable  to  be 
pushed  aside  by  the  weight  of  the  proposed  dam  so 
as  to  cause  dangerous  settlement. 

We  are  also  satisfied  that  the  materials  available 
and  which  it  is  proposed  to  use  are  suitable  and  can 
be  readily  placed  to  form  a  tight,  stable,  and  perma- 
nent dam. 

The  type  of  dam  now  under  construction  is  one 
which  meets  with  our  unanimous  approval.  It  is  a 
combination  of  rock  fill  and  hydraulic  fill,  in  which  the 
exterior  faces  are  to  be  composed  largely  of  rock  of 
all  sizes  obtained  from  the  canal  excavation,  dumped 


Appendix  221 

and  laid  on  slopes  much  flatter  than  are  ordinarily 
found  in  earth  dams,  while  the  interior  of  the  great 
mass  will  consist  of  clayey  material  obtained  by  hy- 
draulic dredging  from  large  deposits  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  dam  and  carried  by  water  through 
pipes  to  the  places  where  it  is  to  be  used.  The  mate- 
rial as  delivered  is  a  mixture  of  earth  and  water.  The 
material  held  in  suspension  slowly  deposits,  finally 
forming  a  solid,  water-tight  embankment.  The  pond 
necessarily  maintained  on  the  top  of  the  dam  during 
construction  tests  the  embankment  at  all  stages  of 
its  growth,  searches  out  any  weak  points,  and  leads 
to  the  closure  of  any  voids  or  cracks. 

The  most  practical  question  in  the  construction  of 
the  Gatun  Dam  is  the  possible  slipping  and  sliding 
of  the  materials  underneath  and  in  the  body  of  the 
dam.  The  materials,  speaking  broadly,  are  of  a 
clayey  nature,  generally  impervious  to  water,  but 
sometimes  slipping  when  subjected  to  heavy  unbal- 
anced pressure  or  on  high  steep  slopes  when  saturated 
with  water.  In  this  respect  the  materials  differ  radi- 
cally from  the  sandy  and  gravelly  materials  which 
have  been  frequently  used  in  the  construction  of  other 
earth  dams. 

In  order  to  build  a  dam  of  these  clayey  materials 
that  will  be  stable  and  permanent,  it  is  necessary  that 
the  slopes  should  be  flatter  than  would  be  needed  to 
secure  the  stability  of  a  dam  of  siliceous,  sandy,  or 
gravelly  materials. 

The  evidence  that  has  been  accumulated  as  to  the 
degrees  of  slope  that  are  stable  with  these  materials 
seems  to  us  conclusive.  The  fact  that  the  materials 
are  slippery  does  not  mean  that  a  dam  built  from 
them  is  necessarily  less  stable  than  a  dam  built  of 


22  2     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

materials  that  do  not  slip  so  easily.  It  does  mean 
that,  in  order  to  secure  stability  and  permanency, 
the  dam  must  be  built  with  a  greater  thickness  at 
the  bottom. 

The  dam  as  proposed  is  more  than  a  third  of  a  mile 
in  horizontal  thickness  at  its  base,  including  the 
rock- fill  portions. 

The  design  upon  which  the  work  is  now  being  prose- 
cuted abundantly  fulfils  the  required  degree  of  sta- 
bility and  goes  far  beyond  the  limits  of  what  would 
be  regarded  as  sufficient  and  safe  in  any  less  import- 
ant structure. 

As  a  matter  of  convenience  and  economy  during 
construction,  materials  have  been  piled  up  on  slopes 
much  steeper  than  those  contemplated  in  the  finished 
work.  Generally,  the  materials  so  placed  have  re- 
mained in  position,  but  in  some  cases  slips  have  oc- 
curred. The  occurrence  of  these  slips  is  of  no  serious 
consequence  either  in  the  practical  execution  of  the 
work  or  in  the  ultimate  stability  of  the  structures. 
We  can  readily  understand  how  incorrect  deductions 
may  have  been  drawn  from  these  occurrences,  espe- 
cially by  those  not  fully  informed  as  to  the  character 
of  the  materials  and  the  ample  dimensions  and  much 
less  steep  slopes  of  the  proposed  structures  in  their 
final  form. 

We  were  requested  to  consider  the  proper  height 
for  the  crest  of  the  Gatun  Dam,  and  after  considera- 
tion concluded  that  it  could  be  safely  reduced  20  feet 
from  that  originally  proposed,  namely,  to  an  eleva- 
tion of  115  feet  above  sea-level,  or  30  feet  above  the 
normal  level  of  the  water  against  the  dam.  We  are 
also  of  the  opinion  that  the  sheet  piling  recently  pro- 
posed under  the  base  of  the  dam  may  be  safely  omit- 


Appendix  223 

ted.  The  narrow  cut-ofE  trench  now  in  progress 
through  the  upper  earth  stratum  on  Gatun  Island 
and  elsewhere  and  designed  to  be  refilled  with  sluiced 
material  should  be  continued. 

Changes  in  these  respects  will  facilitate  the  work 
of  construction  and  will  reduce  somewhat  the  cost  of 
the  proposed  work. 

A  full  study  of  all  the  data  at  hand,  and  of  the 
materials,  and  of  the  plans  that  are  proposed  with 
the  above  modifications,  leaves  no  doubt  in  our 
minds  as  to  the  safe,  tight,  and  durable  character  of 
the  Gatun  Dam. 

CHANGES  IN  PLAN  OF  CANAL 

It  was  suggested  to  us  by  Mr.  Taft  that  we  give 
special  consideration  to  those  changes  which  have 
been  made  in  the  plans  of  the  minority  of  the  Board 
of  Consulting  Engineers  of  1905  since  the  adoption  of 
the  project. 

Change  in  Position  of  Lower  Pacific  Locks 

One  of  the  most  important  of  these  changes  is  the 
moving  of  the  lower  locks  on  the  Pacific  end  of  the 
Canal  from  La  Boca,  on  the  shore  of  Panama  Bay,  to 
Miraflores,  about  4  miles  inland. 

This  change  involved  abandoning  the  construction 
of  two  earth  dams  at  and  near  La  Boca  and  the  sub- 
stitution of  about  4  miles  of  deep-sea  level  channel 
500  feet  wide  from  La  Boca  to  Miraflores  in  place  of 
a  wider  channel  through  the  lake  that  would  have 
been  created  by  the  dams. 

Before  this  change  was  made  work  had  been  com- 
menced  upon  the  toes   of  one  of  the  dams.     The 


224      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

material  had  been  piled  up  to  a  considerable  height  on 
slopes  steeper  than  were  capable  of  being  supported 
by  the  underlying  material.  Under  these  conditions 
settlements  occurred  with  lateral  displacement  of 
some  of  the  underlying  material.  Your  board,  after 
carefully  inspecting  the  ground  and  the  partially 
completed  work,  is  of  the  opinion  that  these  settle- 
ments cause  no  reason  to  doubt  the  stability  of  the 
proposed  dams.  We  are  unanimously  of  the  opinion 
that  stable  and  water-tight  dams  of  substantially  the 
proposed  dimensions  could  have  been  constructed  on 
the  proposed  sites  without  recourse  to  dredging  out 
the  underlying  soft  material. 

The  report  of  the  minority  of  the  Board  of  Consult- 
ing Engineers  of  1905  recognized  that  an  objection 
might  be  made  from  a  military  point  of  view  to  plac- 
ing locks  on  the  shore  of  a  bay,  exposed  to  guns  of 
hostile  ships.  We  now  understand  that  the  con- 
trolling reason  for  the  change  was  a  military  one. 
This  change  in  the  plans  will  result  in  an  increase  in 
cost  of  the  Canal  by  an  amount  judged  from  evidence 
at  our  disposal  to  be  not  less  than  $10,000,000.  We 
are  informed,  however,  that  this  change  would  greatly 
lessen  the  cost  of  fortification. 

Increased  Width  of  Canal 

Another  change  is  the  increase  of  the  minimum 
bottom  width  of  the  Canal  from  200  feet  to  300  feet. 
This  applies  to  a  length  of  about  4.7  miles  in  the 
Culebra  Cut.  We  understand  that  this  change  will 
increase  the  cost  of  the  work  by  about  $13,000,000. 
The  work  upon  the  excavation  of  the  Culebra  Cut 
under  the  revised  plan  has  now  so  far  advanced  that 


Appendix  225 

this  widening  will  not  delay  the  completion  of  the 
Canal. 

The  widening  will  permit  ships  to  pass  one  another 
in  this  portion  of  the  Canal,  as  they  may  under  the 
original  plan  in  all  other  portions,  and  will  otherwise 
facilitate  navigation  through  it. 

If  slides  occur  after  the  completion  of  the  Canal, 
the  wider  Canal  is  not  as  likely  to  be  blocked  as  a 
narrow  one. 

We  understand  that  this  change  was  authorized 
directly  by  you  on  the  presentation  of  its  advantages 
by  the  Chief  Engineer,  and  we  merely  call  attention 
to  it  as  one  reason  for  the  increased  cost  of  the  Canal. 

Increased  Size  of  Locks 

Another  change  is  the  increase  of  the  dimensions 
of  the  locks  from  95  by  900  feet  to  no  by  1000  feet. 
The  increase  in  width  we  understand  has  been  made 
in  compliance  with  a  request  from  the  General  Board 
of  the  Navy  Department,  in  order  to  allow  the 
passage  of  the  largest  war  vessels  contemplated. 

A  large  increase  in  cost  is  involved  in  these  enlarged 
dimensions. 

Changes  in  Breakwaters 

An  important  change  is  proposed  in  the  location  of 
the  breakwater  at  the  Atlantic  end  of  the  Canal.  The 
plan  provisionally  adopted  by  the  Board  of  Consult- 
ing Engineers  of  1905,  and  adopted  for  the  purpose  of 
estimate  by  the  minority  of  that  board,  was  for  a 
breakwater  generally  parallel  with  the  channel, 
which  included  less  than  one  third  of  Limon  Bay; 
whereas  the  breakwater  in  the  location  now  proposed 
15 


22  6     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

will  protect  the  entire  bay  and  furnish  a  more  com- 
modious harbor  not  only  for  ships  using  the  Canal, 
but  for  all  other  shipping  which  makes  use  of  the 
port.  A  considerable  increase  in  cost  is  involved  in 
this  change. 

We  had  an  opportunity  to  view  the  present  harbor 
during  what  is  said  to  have  been  the  only  severe 
norther  of  the  past  two  years,  and  have  no  doubt  that 
a  good  breakwater  is  a  desirable  adjunct  to  the  Canal. 
We  are  not  prepared  to  pass  on  the  precise  location, 
form,  or  cost  of  this. 

A  change  of  less  importance  has  been  made  at  the 
Pacific  end  by  relocating  the  dredged  channel  leading 
to  deep  water  and  increasing  its  width  from  300  feet 
to  500  feet  and  by  constructing  a  breakwater  from  the 
shore  at  La  Boca  to  Naos  Island  with  material  exca- 
vated from  the  Culebra  Cut.  This  breakwater,  now 
under  construction,  serves  to  prevent  currents  across 
the  Canal  cut  and  tends  to  prevent  deposits  in  the 
dredged  channel  and  to  increase  the  safety  of  naviga- 
tion. The  breakwater  may  also  serve  to  carry  a  road- 
way to  Naos  Island.  These  changes  involve  some 
additional  expense. 

Relocation  of  Panama  Railroad 

The  alignment  of  the  Panama  railroad  has  been 
materially  changed  south  of  Gatun.  This  change  was 
made  because  it  was  found  that  the  swamp  near  the 
Gatuncillo  River  would  not  support  the  very  high 
railroad  embankment  required,  if  made  with  ordi- 
nary slopes,  and  a  line  crossing  at  a  point  higher  up 
the  river  was  selected,  which  does  not,  however,  ma- 
terially increase  the  length  of  the  railroad.     The  con- 


Appendix  227 

stmction  of  the  railroad  will  cost  much  more  than 
was  estimated  by  the  minority  of  the  Board  of  Con- 
sulting Engineers,  who  were  unable  to  procure  sur- 
veys of  the  proposed  location.  The  recent  change  in 
location  affords  more  ample  and  convenient  anchor- 
age immediately  above  the  locks. 

Other  Changes 

Some  further  changes  or  additions  which  have  not 
yet  been  fully  worked  out  have  been  mentioned  to  us 
as  likely  to  be  made  as  the  work  progresses,  namely, 
the  dredging  out  of  a  broad  anchorage  basin  imme- 
diately downstream  from  the  Gatun  Locks,  another 
for  anchorage  and  room  for  turning  of  long  ships  near 
La  Boca,  and  possibly  another  just  below  the  Mira- 
fiores  Locks.  These  can  all  be  delayed  until  the 
completion  of  the  main  work  of  canal  excavation 
and  lock  building,  and  then  executed  by  the  dredges 
that  have  done  the  main  work.  The  work  can  thus 
be  done  without  additional  equipment,  and  at  a  low 
price  per  cubic  yard. 

PRESENT    CONDITION    OF    WORK 

It  has  been  suggested  that  we  report  upon  the  con- 
dition of  the  work  and  the  progress  being  made,  and, 
if  found  possible  in  the  time  at  our  disposal,  upon 
the  probable  time  of  completion. 

Organization 

We  have  seen  the  work  under  way  on  all  parts  of 
the  Canal.  We  have  become  acquainted  with  the  en- 
gineers in  responsible  positions  and  have  noted  the 
organization  and  equipment. 

It  is  our  impression  that  the  work  is  well  organized 
and  is  being  conducted  energetically  and  well. 


2  28      The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

The  work  is  done  by  day  labor  and  not  by  the 
contract  system. 

The  men  are  well  paid,  well  housed,  well  fed,  and 
well  cared  for  in  case  of  sickness  or  accident.  Houses, 
furniture,  fuel,  water,  drainage,  and  lights  are  fur- 
nished to  employees  without  cost.  Roads  are  built, 
schools  supported,  and  Young  Men's  Christian  Asso- 
ciation buildings  provided,  which  are  practically 
club  buildings.  Parts  of  the  running  expenses  are 
also  paid.  The  premises  are  cleared  and  drained  and 
the  grass  kept  cut.  The  climate  is  especially  adapted 
to  outdoor  life,  and  the  ample  porches,  entirely  en- 
closed by  bronze-wire  screens,  give  the  greatest  fa- 
cility for  this.  We  are  especially  pleased  with  the 
architectural  arrangements  of  the  houses.  They  are 
admirably  adapted  to  the  climatic  conditions. 

Bachelor  quarters  and  hotels  furnishing  meals  at 
moderate  prices  are  also  provided  by  the  government. 

Hospitals  are  provided,  free  medical  attendance  is 
furnished  to  employees,  and  medical  attendance  at 
low  rates  is  supplied  to  families  of  employees. 

A  limited  amount  of  free  transportation,  namely, 
one  excursion  trip  each  month  to  any  station,  is  fur- 
nished on  the  Panama  railroad  to  employees,  and  half 
rates  are  given  in  all  other  cases,  and  also  half  rates 
to  families  of  employees .  Free  transportation  in  some 
cases,  and  in  all  other  cases  transportation  at  reduced 
rates  to  and  from  the  Isthmus,  is  provided  to  em- 
ployees and  their  families. 

Six  weeks'  leave  of  absence  each  year,  with  full  pay, 
is  given  to  all  monthly  employees,  and  this  includes 
not  only  office  and  engineering  forces,  but  also  the 
mechanical  forces  on  the  monthly  basis. 

The  medical  and  sanitary  department  is  especially 


Appendix  229 

to  be  commended  for  its  success  in  exterminating 
yellow  fever  and  controlling  malaria,  and  for  other 
measures  which  have  made  the  Isthmus  a  thoroughly- 
healthful  place  in  which  to  live. 

The  cost  of  the  sanitary  department,  which  repre- 
sents the  cost  of  keeping  the  Isthmus  healthful, 
amounts  to  about  $2,000,000  per  year.  This  is  a  large 
sum,  but  the  work  is  well  done,  and  any  decrease  in 
the  efficiency  of  the  sanitary  service  might  readily 
prove  disastrous  to  the  prosecution  of  the  main  work. 

We  believe  that  in  no  other  great  construction  work 
has  so  much  been  done  for  employees  in  the  way  of 
furnishing  necessities,  comforts,  and  luxuries  of  life 
at  the  cost  of  the  work  as  has  been  done  in  this  case. 
This  is  one  reason  for  the  high  cost  of  the  Canal. 

Progress  and  Time  of  Completion 

We  have  examined  diagrams  and  statistics  showing 
the  amount  of  work  accomplished  by  years  and  by 
months  since  the  work  was  taken  over  by  the  United 
States,  and  showing  the  amounts  of  the  various 
classes  of  work  remaining  to  be  done  and  the  esti- 
mated rates  of  progress  and  times  required  for  com- 
pletion. It  has  been  impossible  for  us  to  check  these 
in  detail,  but  we  have  compared  them  with  other 
estimates,  and  with  the  work  obviously  done,  and 
they  seem  reasonable  to  us.  In  the  light  of  this  show- 
ing, we  see  no  reason  why  the  Canal  should  not  be 
completed,  as  estimated  by  the  Chief  Engineer,  by 
January  i,  191 5;  in  fact,  it  seems  that  a  somewhat 
earlier  completion  is  probable  if  all  goes  well,  but  in 
view  of  possible  contingencies  it  is  not  prudent  at 
this  time  to  count  on  an  earlier  date. 


230     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Cost  of  Work 

In  examining  the  expenditures  thus  far  made  it 
must  be  borne  in  mind  that  large  sums  have  been 
paid  for  steamships,  dredges,  steam  shovels,  loco- 
motives, cars,  tracks,  shops,  and  all  the  equipment 
that  is  necessary  to  prosecute  a  work  of  this  magni- 
tude, and  also  that  large  sums  have  been  spent  for 
dwellings,  offices,  buildings  of  various  kinds,  for 
waterworks,  sewers,  paving,  and  other  equipment, 
and  that  these  expenditures  have  been  made,  in  large 
measure,  for  the  whole  work,  and  that  corresponding 
disbursements  hereafter  will  be  very  much  less  in 
proportion  than  they  have  been  to  date. 

Colonel  Goethals  has  presented  to  us  an  estimate  of 
the  quantities  of  materials  and  the  cost  involved  in 
the  construction  of  the  Canal  as  now  planned,  includ- 
ing all  disbursements  thus  far  made  and  the  estimated 
amounts  required  for  completion.  These  cover  the 
greater  width  of  excavation,  the  increased  size  of 
locks,  the  extra  canal  channel  required  by  mov- 
ing the  Pacific  Locks  from  La  Boca  to  Mirafiores. 
the  improved  harbor  arrangements  at  Colon,  and  all 
other  changes  which  have  been  adopted  or  which 
are  now  seriously  contemplated.  The  payments  to 
the  New  Panama  Canal  Company  are  included,  and 
also  the  payments  to  the  Republic  of  Panama  and 
the  cost  of  sanitation  and  Zone  government,  for 
which  items  the  Board  of  Consulting  Engineers  of 
1905  stated  that  it  presented  no  estimates. 

The  estimates  and  allowances  so  made  seem  ample 
to  us.  In  some  items  it  would  seem  that  considerable 
reductions  could  be  made,  but  on  the  other  hand,  the 
work  is  large  and  novel  and  unforeseen  contingencies 


Appendix  231 

must  be  expected,  so  that  it  may  be  that  the  aggre- 
gate estimate  as  presented  is  not  too  large. 

After  deducting  $15,000,000,  representing  the  esti- 
mated receipts  from  the  return  of  money  loaned  the 
Panama  railroad,  and  from  the  collection  of  water 
rates  to  cover  the  cost  of  municipal  improvements 
made  in  Panama  and  Colon,  and  from  miscellaneous 
sources,  this  present  estimate  of  the  complete  cost  of 
the  lock  canal  amounts  to  $360,000,000. 

In  making  this  estimate  no  reduction  has  been 
made  for  whatever  salvage  may  be  realized  from  the 
construction  plant  at  the  termination  of  the  work, 
which  plant  has  cost  to  date  about  $30,000,000. 

The  cost  of  the  Canal  as  estimated  in  1905  is  fre- 
quently stated  to  be  $140,000,000,  but  this  is  incorrect, 
as  the  minority  report  expressly  excluded  sanitation 
and  Zone  government,  and  the  payments  to  Panama 
and  the  French  company  had  already  been  made. 
Adding  these  amounts,  using  the  present  estimates 
of  sanitation  and  Zone  government,  we  have  in  round 
numbers  the  following  : 

Estimate  of  the  minority  of  the  Board  of 
Consulting  Engineers  for  the  cost  of 
construction,  exclusive  of  sanitation 
and  Zone  government $i/1o,ooo,ooo 

Payments  made  to  the  Republic  of  Pan- 
ama and  to  the  New  Panama  Canal 
Company 50,000,000 

Sanitation   and    Zone   government,    as 

now  estimated 27,000,000 

Total $217,000,000 

The  difference  between  this  cost  and  the  total  cost 


232     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

as  now  estimated  is  therefore  $143,000,000.  Of  this 
amount  nearly  one  half  can  be  accounted  for  by  the 
changes  in  the  Canal  and  appurtenant  works  to  which 
we  have  already  referred,  and  the  remainder  is  to  be 
attributed  mainly  to  the  higher  unit  cost  of  the  differ- 
ent items  of  the  work,  caused  in  part  by  the  higher 
prices  for  plant,  supplies,  and  labor  which  have  pre- 
vailed in  the  United  States  since  the  estimate  of  1905 
was  made,  and  which  made  it  necessary  to  offer  very 
high  wages  and  special  inducements  in  order  to  ob- 
tain the  requisite  force  in  a  locality  where  the  reputa- 
tion for  health  was  not  good  in  the  earlier  years,  in 
part  to  the  adoption  of  an  eight-hour  day  for  most  of 
the  work  instead  of  a  ten-hour  day,  in  part  to  the 
much  greater  expenditure  for  housing  and  care  of 
employees  and  for  auxiliary  works  than  was  antici- 
pated, and  in  part,  in  our  opinion,  to  the  evident  pur- 
pose to  make  the  estimates  ample  and  to  provide 
liberally  for  contingencies. 

When  the  work  at  Panama  is  completed,  in  addition 
to  having  the  Canal,  the  United  States  will  own  the 
Panama  railroad  and  the  steamship  line  operated  in 
connection  therewith. 

TYPE  OF  CANAL 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  cost  of  the  lock  canal, 
as  now  proposed,  will  largely  overrun  the  estimate  of 
the  minority  of  the  Board  of  Consulting  Engineers  of 
1905,  and  that  the  excavation  in  the  Culebra  Cut  is 
being  made  somewhat  more  rapidly  than  was  antici- 
pated, we  have  considered  in  a  very  general  way  the 
relative  cost  and  time  of  construction  of  a  sea-level 
canal. 


Appendix  233 

Most  of  the  factors  which  have  operated  to  increase 
the  cost  of  the  lock  canal  would  operate  with  sim- 
ilar effect  to  increase  the  cost  of  the  sea-level  canal, 
and  at  the  present  time  there  are  additional  fac- 
tors of  even  greater  importance  to  be  considered 
as  affecting  the  time  of  completion  and  cost  of 
a  sea-level  canal.  One  of  these  is  to  be  found  in 
the  Gamboa  dam,  proposed  to  be  nearly  200  feet  in 
height  above  its  foundations,  which  would  be  about 
60  feet  below  the  normal  river  level.  Prior  to  the 
construction  of  this  dam  a  long  and  deep  diversion 
channel  must  be  provided  of  far  greater  magnitude 
than  that  for  the  Gatun  Dam,  which  has  been  about 
two  years  in  progress,  and  is  not  yet  completed. 

Judging  by  the  time  required  for  the  construction 
of  dams  of  similar  magnitude  in  the  United  States,  it 
is  probable  that  were  work  on  the  Gamboa  dam  to  be 
started  as  soon  as  possible  this  one  feature  of  the  sea- 
level  project  of  the  Board  of  Consulting  Engineers  of 
1905  could  not  be  completed  until  after  the  time 
required  for  the  completion  of  the  lock  canal.  The 
construction  of  this  dam  at  Gamboa  for  the  control 
of  the  Chagres  is  an  essential  preliminary  to  the 
excavation  of  the  sea-level  canal  for  the  13  miles 
from  Bohio  to  Bas  Obispo. 

Furthermore,  in  addition  to  the  Gamboa  dam,  the 
sea-level  project  provides  for  building  for  the  control 
of  tributary  streams  three  large  dams,  the  sites  of 
which  have  not  been  examined. 

Work  is  already  far  advanced  on  nearly  all  parts 
of  the  lock  canal,  and  a  change  in  the  type  would 
result  in  abandoning  work  done  which  represents 
large  expenditure. 

Under  the  plan  now  being  carried  out,  the  River 


234     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

Chagres  and  each  of  the  other  rivers  on  the  Isthmus 
tributary  thereto  is  made  an  ally  of  the  project.  The 
waters  of  these  rivers  are  handled  economically  and  in 
such  a  way  as  to  facilitate  the  operation  of  the 
Canal.  With  the  sea-level  project,  these  rivers  instead 
of  being  allies  would  be  enemies  of  the  Canal,  and 
floods  in  them  would  greatly  interfere  with  the  work. 

The  excavation  of  the  Canal  would  be  carried  to  40 
feet  or  more  below  sea-level  and  to  a  much  greater 
depth  below  the  bottoms  of  the  valleys  in  which  the 
upper  streams  now  flow. 

It  would  further  be  necessary  to  cut  long  and  large 
diversion  channels  on  each  side  of  the  Canal  for 
streams  entering  the  Chagres  Valley.  The  cost  of 
such  lateral  channels  to  protect  the  Culebra  Cut  alone 
from  the  comparatively  small  streams  formerly  en- 
tering it,  including  work  done  by  the  French,  has 
probably  been  not  less  than  $2 ,000,000.  The  channels 
required  for  the  lower  valley  of  the  Chagres  would 
be  necessarily  much  longer,  larger,  and  far  more 
expensive. 

ROCK  EXCAVATION  UNDER  WATER 

Much  has  been  said  about  the  economy  of  exca- 
vating rock  under  water  by  modern  appliances  as 
compared  with  the  cost  of  such  excavation  in  the  dry 
with  steam  shovels  after  blasting. 

We  concur  in  the  opinion  of  those  in  charge  of 
work  at  the  Isthmus  that  it  is  more  economical, 
where  the  conditions  are  favorable,  to  excavate  rock 
in  the  dry  than  by  any  under- water  process  now 
in  use.  Experience  is  not  yet  available  to  us  which 
will  justify  the  belief  that,  with  the  depth  of  cut  and 


Appendix  235 

the  quality  of  rock  found  on  the  Isthmus,  the  general 
adoption  of  subaqueous  methods  would  prove  more 
expeditious  or  cheaper. 

It  is  probable  that  more  economical  subaqueous 
methods  will  be  sometime  developed,  but  it  would 
not  be  wise  to  base  a  change  in  plan  of  important 
work  upon  prospective  results  to  be  obtained  by  any 
method  not  yet  thoroughly  tried. 

EARTHQUAKES 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  Canal  region  is  liable 
to  earthquake  shocks  and  that  a  sea-level  canal 
would  be  less  subject  to  injury  by  earthquakes  than 
a  lock  canal. 

We  have  seen,  in  the  city  of  Panama,  the  ruins  of 
an  old  church,  said  to  have  been  destroyed  by  fire, 
containing  a  long  and  extremely  fiat  arch  of  great 
age,  which  convinces  us  that  there  has  been  no 
earthquake  shock  on  the  Isthmus  during  the  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  more  or  less,  that  this  struc- 
ture has  been  in  existence,  that  would  have  injured 
the  work  proposed. 

Dams  and  locks  are  structures  of  great  stability 
and  little  subject  to  damage  by  earthquake  shocks. 
The  successful  resistance  of  the  dams  and  reservoirs 
supplying  San  Francisco  with  water,  even  when 
those  structures  were  located  near  the  line  of  fault  of 
the  earthquake,  gives  confidence  in  the  ability  of 
well-designed  masonry  structures  and  earth  em- 
bankments to  resist  earthquake  shocks. 

We  do  not  regard  such  shocks  as  a  source  of  serious 
damage  to  any  type  of  canal  at  the  Isthmus,  but  if 
they  were  so  their  effect  upon  the  dams,  locks,  and 


236     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

regulating  works  proposed  for  the  sea-level  canal 
would  be  much  the  same  as  upon  similar  structures 
of  the  lock  canal.  The  Gamboa  dam  for  controlling 
the  floods  of  the  Chagres  in  connection  with  the  sea- 
level  canal  provides  for  a  lake  having  an  area  of  29 
-square  miles  when  full,  and  if  this  water  were  sud- 
denly let  loose  into  the  sea-level  canal  it  would  seri- 
ously injure  large  portions  thereof  and  wreck  ships 
therein.  A  similar  result  would  be  reached  if  the 
other  three  dams  of  the  sea-level  canal  retaining 
lakes,  having  an  aggregate  area  of  10  square  miles, 
were  to  be  suddenly  destroyed. 

WATER  SUPPLY 

We  believe  that  the  sufficiency  of  the  water  supply 
for  a  lock  canal  has  never  been  seriously  questioned. 
It  is  true  that  during  the  dry  season  the  natural  flow 
of  the  streams  would  not  be  sufficient  to  furnish  the 
water  required  for  numerous  lockages.  There  would 
even  be  times  when  the  natural  flow  would  not 
suffice  to  make  good  the  loss  by  evaporation  from 
the  surface  of  the  water  in  Gatun  Lake.  During  the 
rainy  season  there  is  a  great  excess  of  water  which 
can  be  readily  stored  in  Gatun  Lake  with  its  area  of 
163  square  miles.  It  is  proposed  to  fill  this  lake  dur- 
ing the  rainy  season  2  feet  above  its  normal  level, 
and  to  draw  it  as  needed  during  the  dry  season.  It 
is  computed  that  by  drawing  it  5  feet  below  normal 
level,  which  draft  would  leave  40  feet  of  water 
through  Culebra  Cut,  the  supply  in  a  dry  year  would 
be  sufficient  to  serve  from  30  to  40  lockages  up  and  an 
equal  number  of  lockages  down  daily.  Each  lockage 
might  consist  of  a  single  large  vessel,  or  a,  fleet  of 


Appendix  237 

smaller  vessels  capable  of  being  in  the  lock  at  one 
time,  as  is  common  at  Sault  Ste.  Marie.  For  compari- 
son the  published  record  shows  that  an  average  of  only 
12  ships  per  day  passed  through  the  Suez  Canal 
in  1907. 

Ultimately,  if  needed  for  increased  traffic,  additional 
water  may  be  held  from  wet  seasons  and  made 
available  in  dry  ones.  This  may  be  accomplished 
either  by  raising  further  the  high-water  level  in 
Gatun  Lake  or  by  lowering  the  low- water  level  in  the 
lake,  this  lowering  being  accompanied,  if  necessary, 
by  the  deepening  of  the  Canal,  or  storage  may  be 
provided  by  an  entirely  independent  reservoir,  for 
which  there  are  excellent  sites. 

From  our  examinations  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Gatun  Dam,  we  can  find  no  reason  to  apprehend 
important  loss  of  water  by  seepage  through  the 
ridges  surrounding  the  lake,  while  in  our  judgment 
the  bed  of  the  lake  will  be  practically  impervious  to 
water. 

The  water  supply  in  sight  is  so  much  greater  than 
any  need  that  can  be  reasonably  anticipated  that  the 
best  method  of  securing  more  water  when  the  time 
of  need  arrives  does  not  require  to  be  considered  now. 

CONCLUSIONS 

Your  board  is  satisfied  that  the  dams  and  locks,  the 
lock  gates,  and  all  other  engineering  structures  in- 
volved in  the  lock-canal  project  are  feasible  and  safe, 
and  that  they  can  be  depended  upon  to  perform  with 
certainty  their  respective  functions. 

We  do  not  find  any  occasion  for  changing  the  type 
of  canal  that  has  been  adopted. 


238     The  Conquest  of  the  Isthmus 

A  change  to  a  sea-level  plan  at  the  present  time 
would  add  greatly  to  the  cost  and  time  of  construction, 
without  compensating  advantages,  either  in  capacity 
of  canal  or  safety  of  navigation,  and  hence  would  be 
a  public  misfortune. 

We  do  find  in  the  detailed  designs  that  have  been 
adopted,  or  that  are  under  consideration,  some  mat- 
ters where  other  arrangements  than  those  now  con- 
sidered seem  worthy  of  study.  As  these  proposed 
changes  are  of  a  tentative  nature  and  do  not  in  any 
case  affect  the  main  questions  herein  discussed,  they 
are  not  taken  up  in  this  report. 

Very  respectfully, 

Frederic  P.  Stearns,  James  D.  Schuyler, 

Arthur  P.  Davis,  Isham  Randolph, 

Henry  A.  Allen,  John  R.  Freeman, 

Allen  Hazen. 


The  President. 


i  ,     ill!    ijsi  >^-     4    nj  1 1  hi  t   I 
11    nil    iiii  n_ it    liiii  lu^^^  r< 


A  ,>  }{{[  I  A  JM  i  i  i  i  jM  i- jU. 


Ji  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Complete  Catalogues  sent 
on.  application 


American   Waterways 


The  Romance  of  the  Colorado  River 

The  Story  of  its  Discovery  in  1  540,  with  an  account  of  the  Later 
Explorations,  and  with  Special  Reference  to  the  Voyages  of  Powell 
through  the  Line  of  the  Great  Canyons. 

By  Frederick  S.  Dellenbaugh 

Member  of  the  United  States  Colorado  River  Expedition  of  1871  and  1872 

435  pages,  with  200  Illustrations,  and  Frontispiece  in  Color,     $3.50  net 

"  His  scientific  training,  his  long  experience  in  this  region,  and  his  eye 
for  natural  scenery  enable  him  to  make  this  account  of  the  Colorado  River 
most  graphic  and  interesting.  No  other  book  equally  good  can  be  writ- 
ten for  many  years  to  come — not  until  our  knowledge  of  the  river  is 
greatly  enlarged." — The  Boston  Herald. 

"  Mr.  Dellenbaugh  writes  with  enthusiasm  and  balance  about  his 
chief,  and  of  the  canyon  with  a  fascination  that  make  him  disinclined  to 
leave  it,  and  brings  him  thirty  years  later  to  its  description  with  undimin- 
ished interest. — New  York  Tribune. 


The  Ohio  River 

A  COURSE  OF  EMPIRE 
By  Archer  B.  Hulbert 

Associate  Professor  of  American  History,  Marietta  College, 
Author  of  "Historic  Highways  of  America,"  etc. 

390  pages,  with  100  Illustrations  and  a  Map.     $3.50  net 

An  interesting  description  from  a  fresh  pomt  of  view  of  the  interna- 
tional struggle  which  ended  with  the  English  conquest  of  the  Ohio  Basin, 
and  includes  many  interesting  details  of  the  pioneer  movement  on  the  Ohio. 
The  most  widely  read  students  of  the  Ohio  Valley  will  find  a  unique  and 
unexpected  interest  in  Mr.  Hulbert's  chapters  dealing  with  the  Ohio  River 
in  the  Revolution,  the  rise  of  the  cities  of  Pittsburg,  Cincinnati,  and  Louis- 
ville, the  fighting  Virginians,  the  old-time  methods  of  navigation,  etc. 

"A  wonderfully  comprehensive  and  entirely  fascinating  book." — 
Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 


American   Waterways 


Narragansett   Bay 

Its  Historic  and  Romantic  Associations  and  Picturesque  Setting 
By  Edgar  Mayhew  Bacon 

Author  of  "  The  Hudson  River,"  "  Chronicles  of  Tarrytown,"  etc. 

340  pages,  with  50  Drawings  by  the  Author,  and  with  Numerous 
Photographs  and  a  Map.     $3.50  net 

Impressed  by  the  important  and  singular  part  played  by  the  settlers 
of  Narragansett  in  the  development  of  American  ideas  and  ideals,  and 
strongly  attracted  by  the  romantic  tales  that  are  inwoven  with  the  warp 
of  history,  as  well  as  by  the  incomparable  setting  the  great  bay  affords  for 
such  a  subject,  the  author  offers  this  result  of  his  labor  as  a  contribution 
to  the  story  of  great  American  Waterways,  with  the  hope  that  his  readers 
may  be  imbued  with  somewhat  of  his  own  enthusiasm. 

*'  An  attractive  description  of  the  picturesque  part  of  Rhode  Island. 
Mr.  Bacon  dwells  on  the  natural  beauties,  the  legendary  and  historical  asso- 
ciations, rather  than  the  present  appearance  of  the  shores." — A^.  Y,  Sun. 


The  Great  Lakes 

Vessels  That  Plough  Them,  Their  Owners,  Theit  Sailors,  and  Their  Cargoes  / 
together  with  A  Brief  History  of  Our  Inland  Seas 

By  James  Oliver  Curwood 
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This  profusely  illustrated  book,  as  entertaining  as  it  is  informing,  has 
the  twofold  advantage  of  being  written  by  a  man  who  knows  the  Lakes 
and  their  shores  as  well  as  what  has  been  written  about  them.  The  gen- 
eral reader  will  enjoy  the  romance  attaching  to  the  past  history  of  the 
Lakes  and  not  less  the  romance  of  the  present — the  story  of  the  great 
commercial  fleets  that  plough  our  inland  seas,  created  to  transport  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  and  the  metals  that  are  dug  from  the  bowels  of  the 
earth.  To  the  business  man  who  has  interests  in  or  about  the  Lakes,  or 
to  the  prospective  investor  in  Great  Lakes  enterprises,  the  book  will  be 
found  suggestive.  Comparatively  little  has  been  written  of  these  fresh- 
water seas,  and  many  of  his  readers  will  be  amazed  at  the  wonderful 
story  which  this  volume  tells. 


Jlmerican  Waterways 


The  St.  Lawrence  River 

Historical — Legendary — Picturesque 
By  George  Waldo  Browne 

Author  of  "  Japan — the  Place  and  the  People,"  "  Paradise  of  the  Pacific,"  etc. 

385  pages,  with  100  lilitstrations  and  a  Map.     $3.50  net 

While  the  St.  Lawrence  River  has  been  the  scene  of  many  important 
events  connected  with  the  discovery  and  development  of  a  large  portion 
of  North  America,  no  attempt  has  heretofore  been  made  to  collect  and 
embody  m  one  volume  a  complete  and  comprehensive  narrative  of  this  great 
waterway.  This  is  not  denying  that  considerable  has  been  written  relating 
to  it,  but  the  various  offerings  have  been  scattered  through  many  volumes, 
and  most  of  these  have  become  inaccessible  to  the  general  reader. 

This  work  presents  in  a  consecutive  narrative  the  most  important 
historic  incidents  connected  with  the  river,  combined  with  descriptions  of 
some  of  its  most  picturesque  scenery  and  delightful  excursions  into  its 
legendary  lore.  In  selecting  the  hundred  illustrations  care  has  been  taken 
to  give  as  wide  a  scope  as  possible  to  the  views  belonging  to  the  river. 


The  Niagara  River 

By  Archer  Butler  Hulbert 

Professor  of  American  History,  Marietta  College ;  author  of  "  The  Ohio  River," 
"Historic  Highways  of  America,"  etc. 

350  pages,  with  70  Illustrations  and  Maps.     $3.50  net 

Professor  Hulbert  tells  all  that  is  best  worth  recording  of  the  history 
of  the  river  which  gives  the  book  its  title,  and  of  its  commercial  present 
and  its  great  commercial  future.  An  immense  amount  of  carefully  ordered 
information  is  here  brought  together  into  a  most  entertaining  and  informing 
book.  No  mention  of  this  volume  can  be  quite  adequate  that  fails  to  take 
into  account  the  extraordinary  chapter  which  is  given  to  chronicling  the 
mad  achievements  of  that  company  of  dare-devil  bipeds  of  both  sexes  who 
for  decades  have  been  sweeping  over  the  Falls  [in  barrels  and  other 
receptacles,  or  who  have  gone  dancing  their  dizzy  way  on  ropes  or  wires 
stretched  from  shore  to  shore  above  the  boiling,  leaping  water  beneath. 


American     Waterways 


The  Hudson  River 

FROM  OCEAN  TO  SOURCE 

Historical  —  Legendary  —  Picturesque 

By  Edgar  Mayhew  Bacon 

Author  of  "  Chronicles  of  Tarrytown,"  "  Narragansett  Bay,"  etc. 

600  Pages,  with  100  lUusttations,  including  a  Sectional  Map  of  the  Hudson 
River,     $350  net 

"  The  value  of  this  handsome  quarto  does  not  depend  solely  on 
the  attractiveness  with  which  Mr.  Bacon  has  invested  the  whole  subject, 
it  is  a  kind  of  footnote  to  the  more  conventional  histories,  because  it 
throws  light  upon  the  life  and  habits  of  the  earliest  settlers.  It  is  a  study 
of  Dutch  civilization  in  the  New  World,  severe  enough  in  intentions  to 
be  accurate,  but  easy  enough  in  temper  to  make  a  great  deal  of  humor, 
and  to  comment  upon  those  characteristic  customs  and  habits  which,  while 
they  escape  the  attention  of  the  formal  historian,  are  full  of  significance." 

Outlook. 


The  Coimecticut  River 

AND  THE 

Valley  of  the  Connecticut 

THREE  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTY  MILES  FROM  MOUNTAIN  TO  SEA 

Historical  and  Descriptive 

By  Edwin  Munroe  Bacon 

Author  of  "  Walks  and  Rides  in  the  Country  Round  About  Boston,"  etc. 

500  Pages,  with  100  Illustrations  and  a  Map,     $3,50  net 

From  ocean  to  source  every  mile  of  the  Connecticut  is  crowded  with 
reminders  of  the  early  explorers,  of  the  Indian  wars,  of  the  struggle  of  the 
Colonies,  and  of  the  quaint,  peaceful  village  existence  of  the  early  days  of 
the  Republic.  Beginning  with  the  Dutch  discovery,  Mr.  Bacon  traces 
the  interesting  movements  and  events  which  are  associated  with  this  chief 
river  of  New  England. 


American    Waterways 


The  Columbia  River 

Its  History — Its  Myths — Its  Scenery — Its  Commerce 
By  William  Denison  Lyman 

Professor  of  History  in  Whitman  College,  Walla  Walla,  Washington 

Fully  Illustrated 

This  is  the  first  effort  to  present  a  book  distinctively  on  the  Columbia 
River.  It  is  the  intention  of  the  author  to  give  some  special  prominence 
to  Nelson  and  the  magnificent  lake  district  by  which  it  is  surrounded. 
As  the  joint  possession  of  the  United  States  and  British  Columbia,  and 
as  the  grandest  scenic  river  of  the  continent,  the  Columbia  is  worthy  of 
special  attention. 

In  Preparation  s 

Each  will  he  fully  illustrated  and  will  probably  be  published  at  $3.50  net 

1. — Inland  Waterways 

By  Herbert  Quick 

2. — The  Mississippi  River 

By  Julius  Chambers 

3. — ^The  Story  of  the  Chesapeake 

By  Ruthella  Mory  Bibbms 

4. — Lake  George  and  Lake  Champlain 

By  W.  Max  Reid 

Author  of  "  The  Mohawk  Valley,"  "  The  Story  of  Old  Fort  Johnson,"  etc. 


Date  Due 

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